Misguided
by Undertaker of the Sith
Summary: Story six: Byakuya and Renji are overheard engaged in a rather...peculiar conversation.
1. Arrancar One: Misguided

**_Disclaimer: _I would give anything to make Byakuya-sama and Ulqui-chan mine. My heart. My soul. My life. Hell, even my _laptop_. If only, if only….Alas, neither they nor their fellow Bleach characters belong to me. Tite Kubo takes credit for all (like Senbonzakura on my dreams…tears them to pieces…-sniff-). **

**_Hola, amigos. _These will be a series of humorous short stories dealing with both the Espada and the Soul Reapers. Pairings will be included, so be warned!**

**All that out of the way, enjoy! XD **

_**Tales of the Arrancar: One**_

_Summary:_ Baraggan calls the Arrancar to a special "secret" meeting to teach them to be "true" Espada. Then Gin and Kaname had to show up. Chaos ensues.

_Main cast: _Espada, Gin, Kaname.

_Pairings: _None. Well, little hints of Ulquihime and Nnoitra/Nel.

_Overall warnings: _Towards the end it gets all crack-ish, so beware. A few innuendoes here and there. A touch of violence, as well. All directed at Baraggan, of course. For the forces of justice!

**Misguided**

_BANG. CRASH. BOOM. _

A series of deafening explosions rocked the grand, colorless edifice of Las Noches to its very foundation. Within a spacious chamber deep inside the confines of the palace, Baraggan Luisenbarn, who had been dozing in his conveniently portable throne, jolted awake with such force he knocked his chair down flat. The back of his skull struck unyielding stone, and black flowers bloomed across his field of vision. He blinked, disoriented, momentarily blinded by the cold phosphorescence of the walls. A cacophony of familiar yet alien sounds assaulted his ears: overlapping voices so loud it was impossible to distinguish between them; a stampede of footsteps which seemed to reverberate throughout the entire world. There was another detonation, closer and smaller than the first, perhaps the blast of a Cero or Bala.

That returned Baraggan to his senses. "_Ggio_!" he roared. "_Findor! Poww!" _

At once, the three loyal Fraccion hurried to their fallen master's side. "Lord Baraggan?" Ggio said anxiously. "Are you all right?"

"I would be fine," Baraggan breathed, "if you would help me off this damn_ floor_!"

"Yes, Master," they chorused dutifully. Findor and Ggio positioned themselves on either side of the throne and slipped their hands beneath the twisted spikes on its back. After several moments of strenuous, fruitless pulling, a shrill cry of "Watch what you're doing, Findor!" and a grunted reply of "We're going to have a serious talk about the concept of 'working out' after this, Vega," the two surrendered their efforts and allowed the much larger Poww to take over. The enormous Fraccion lifted the throne, with his master seated comfortably within it, with such ease it might have weighed no more than a feather. He placed the chair carefully back down and bowed low to Baraggan, who nodded briskly in acknowledgement.

"I could have done that," Ggio muttered. Findor snorted.

Baraggan looked up. The reason for all the commotion quickly became clear. The elegant double doors had been blown to pieces. They now lay in a smoking heap of rubble at the entrance. Surmounted upon the ruin was none other than Grimmjow, elbow propped on one knee, chin rested in his palm. His startling blue eyes scanned the room without much interest. Beside him was, of course, Ulquiorra. Pale and beautiful and emotionless, he stood with his hands in his pockets, feline emerald orbs locked on Baraggan. Szayel was on Ulquiorra's other side, an arm wrapped around the shorter Espada. His usual smile, sly and full of the promise of oblivion, curved his lush, deceptively gentle lips. He appeared to anticipate some forthcoming entertainment. Nnoitra stood in the doorway, his massive sword across his shoulders. He was trying to avoid Nel, who kept pouncing on him at unexpected instants. Aaroniero and Zommari observed this silent two-way struggle from opposite ends of the entrance. Yammy loomed above them all, half-concealed by the shadows of the outside hall, Harribel by his side. Starrk had his head on her shoulder, apparently asleep on his feet, mouth open. A thin stream of drool trickled down his chin. Luppi was stretched out on top of the rubble near Grimmjow, expression as bright and mindless as the glow which emanated from the walls.

"Are you finally up?" Szayel inquired casually, flicking a strand of rose-colored hair from his brow.

"So," Baraggan said, ignoring him, "you all made it, I see. Excellent. Now we can commence."

"Commence with _what_, exactly?" Grimmjow attempted to keep his visage noncommittal, but there was a hint of trepidation in his tone.

"Ggio," Baraggan said.

"Yes, Master." Ggio pulled a small black object from his robes. Upon closer inspection, this little device could be identified as a remote of some kind. Nel, who had the most experience in the Living World and therefore the most extensive knowledge of such technology—if anything Nel possessed could be accurately termed 'knowledge'—ceased her endeavors to glomp Nnoitra in order to devote her attention to the proceedings. She was not the only one. Szayel gazed raptly at the object in Ggio's grasp. A million ways to disassemble the device and study its inner workings flashed through his mind at once. He secretly resolved to steal it later when opportunity arose—which with Baraggan, who had a tendency to be distracted by the simplest of things, was quite frequently.

Ggio raised the remote and, with a theatrical air, pressed the large red button at its center. Immediately, the walls began to move, or so the surprised onlookers initially believed.

"What the hell?" Grimmjow, Yammy, and Nnoitra exclaimed in unison.

"Oooh…" Nel and Szayel said. "Ahhh…"

The stone behind Baraggan split down its middle and slid apart in two sections. When the dust settled, a giant blackboard was revealed. It towered above them all, reached to the tenebrous ceiling and stretched to the walls in either direction. The nine Espada crowded in the entryway—except for Starrk, who slept undisturbed—gaped disbelievingly. Baraggan smirked at their expressions.

"Do you like it? I set it up myself."

No one answered. No one seemed able.

"Then I'll tell you the reason why I have called you here today. Lately, ever since we began our campaign against the Soul Society and its pesky Soul Reapers, you all have proved yourselves…_absolutely pathetic_." He accentuated these last two words by slamming his fist on the arm of the chair with each syllable. "They have beaten us at every turn! None of you has managed to attain so much as a single victory, and what are we up against? A bunch of pansies in black dresses, that's what!"

"Does that make us pansies in white dresses?" Ulquiorra murmured to Szayel. Szayel shrugged.

"It's pathetic!" Baraggan cried, his voice rising as his ardor culminated. "It's shameful! It's unseemly! You have all put the title of Espada to _shame_! _This is not what we Espada were meant for! _Defeat must not be tolerated any longer!" He paused for effect, and then continued in a calmer tone, "Therefore, I intend to teach you exactly what it means to be Espada."

Silence greeted this little speech. No one seemed to know how to react. Even Szayel appeared nonplussed. Finally, Grimmjow said, "_What_ the hell are you rambling about, old man?"

Baraggan snapped his fingers meaningfully. Ggio and Findor rose from the floor twenty feet into the air, close to the top of the board. As Baraggan spoke again, they wrote his words in bold colossal letters with white chalk.

"I present A Guide on How to Be an Espada, as instructed by me, Baraggan Luisenbarn, the one and only KING OF—"

"Idiots," Grimmjow interjected abruptly.

Ggio accidently went on and recorded this comment. Hastily, when he realized his mistake, he erased it before Baraggan noticed.

"Hey!" Baraggan said, indignant. "Don't interrupt!" He cleared his throat, glanced up at his aloft Fraccion, and resumed in the same rumbling, imposing voice, "As I was saying, this is presented to you by me, Baraggan Luisenbarn, the one and only KING OF—"

"Old geezers," Yammy interrupted.

"Hey! What did I just say? Anyway…it is by Baraggan, the one and only KING OF—"

"Cripples," Harribel put in.

"Hey!" A vein had begun to pulse dangerously in Baraggan's temple. "For the last time, I am _not_ crippled! I just…don't like to get up." He hesitated. "Plus, I have a feeling my ass is stuck to the chair, at any rate…" He cleared his throat again. "Anyway, it is by Baraggan, the one and only KING OF—"

"Blood!" Nnoitra, evidently quite pleased he had had a whole five minutes in which Nel had not harassed him, chimed.

"_Shut it!_ It's by Baraggan, the one and only KING OF—"

"Love!" Zommari exclaimed, and made the peace sign. Everyone face-faulted simultaneously.

"_Shut…up! _This is brought to you by Baraggan, the one and only KING OF—"

"Lazy?" Aaroniero suggested.

The vein in the elderly Espada's forehead was now more prominent than ever. "By _Baraggan_, the one and only KING OF—"

"Lazy-ass crippled senile idiots," Szayel said cheerfully.

By this point, Baraggan had had it. His eyes burning with rage so intense it almost seemed the heat would be enough to incinerate them all, he bellowed across the room, "_ARGGGG! IF YOU DO NOT SHUT THE HELL UP I WILL RIP OFF ALL YOUR LIMBS AND HANG YOU FROM A POLE AND SET YOU ON FIRE AND EAT YOUR ROASTED INSIDES!_"

Everyone promptly shut up.

Baraggan smiled serenely. "Thank you. Now, without further ado…I present to you…"

"Hey, you rhymed!" Nnoitra cried excitedly. His fellow Arrancar stared at him. He grinned. The others sweatdropped.

Baraggan's eye twitched. "As I was _saying_," he said through gritted teeth, "I now present to you the official guide on how to be an Espada, as instructed by me, your one and only KING OF HUECO MUNDO."

He glanced upward. "Ggio?"

Vega nodded vigorously, chalk pressed against the board preparatory to write. Baraggan averted his attention back to the group at the entrance.

_**Tip One: Always wear really tight white clothing.**_

Grimmjow scoffed. "How the hell is _that _supposed to make you a good Espada?"

Baraggan wagged a reproving finger at him. "One word, Grimmy: _style! _You cannot be a good Espada without _style_!"

Szayel sighed and looked at Yammy with what appeared to be genuine sympathy and regret. "Sorry, Yammy, but there go your chances of ever being a good Espada."

"Hey!"

They proceeded to have a surprisingly anticlimactic fistfight where one bumped into a wall and the other fell down a hole.

"Hey, now!" Aaroniero spoke up, affronted. "_I'm _an _excellent _Espada and I could actually go into public without being arrested!"

"Tch," Ulquiorra said, "no wonder the midget Soul Reaper who always needs to be rescued kicked your boogery ass."

Aaroniero rounded on him. "I kicked her ass, too! Damn near killed her!"

"Only because she thought you were her boyfriend," Ulquiorra pointed out. The others nodded their agreement.

"I still would've kicked her ass _good_ had I been given the chance."

Ulquiorra shook his head. "She would have destroyed you in three seconds flat if she had not thought you were an old flame who looks creepily like her newest flame. In fact, that was exactly what she did when she saw through that lame trick of yours. You'd still be mush if Lord Aizen hadn't decided to have Szayel revive you because he drank too much sake." He paused briefly, and then mused, "Though where he got the sake, I can't figure out…"

Behind him, Nel coughed surreptitiously into her hand.

"Hey!" Aaroniero snapped. "Whose side are you _on_?"

"The winning side," Ulquiorra replied coolly. "Which certainly is not _yours_…"

Aaroniero's expression was murderous. "Why, you…zombie-ghost-freak…_thing_, you…"

"Uh…can I continue?" Baraggan asked, not without a hint of tentativeness.

"Go on," Ulquiorra said, ostensibly unconcerned with the fact Aaroniero was now glaring daggers at him.

Szayel, who had managed after a bit of effort to climb out of the crater Grimmjow had created when he blasted the door apart, approached the enraged Espada. "Hey, Aaroniero," he whispered in the other man's ear.

"_What_?" Aaroniero asked grumpily.

"Your Soul Reaper is showing."

Aaroniero appeared at once to forget his fury at Ulquiorra. "What? Where?" He spun around, hands flying frantically across his torso.

Baraggan resumed, taking no notice of them.

_**Tip Two: Surround yourself with a harem…er…army of kickass sex slaves…er…Fraccion who fight all your battles.**_

"Way ahead of you," Harribel said.

"Hell yeah!" chorused the Fraccion present.

Ulquiorra scoffed. "Who needs _Fraccion_?"

Baraggan gasped. "Ulquiorra! Do you not recognize the prudence of having an army of subservient morons who fight all your battles for you?"

"And lose."

"Hey!" Ggio cried indignantly. "That was a total fluke!"

"Yeah!" Tesla, who had evidently followed Nnoitra, agreed.

"Yeah, a fluke!" Sun-Sun, Apache, and Mila-Rose said from behind Harribel.

"Whatever," Ulquiorra said, indifferent.

"Isn't Yammy basically your Fraccion?" Grimmjow inquired with a glance at the much larger Espada.

Yammy started. "Wha—?"

"Nah," Ulquiorra said, "he's just my bitch. There is a difference."

Yammy's mouth fell open. "Hey, wha—? Huh?"

"There is?" Nnoitra said. An image flashed before him of himself standing over a bent Tesla, whacking him with a leather whip. "Oh…oops." He reached into his robes, pulled out that same whip, and passed it to Ulquiorra. "Guess I won't be needing this anymore, then."

Tesla looked rather disappointed.

"Uh…anyway…" Baraggan tapped the board to indicate Ggio to continue.

_**Tip Three: Never, EVER eat human food.**_

Zommari was in the midst of shoving slices of pizza into his mouth from a stack of boxes he had brought with him, but when Grimmjow read aloud this next tip, he stopped suddenly. "Huh?"

Grimmjow raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong with human food?"

Baraggan scrutinized the blue-haired Espada suspiciously. "Grimmjow…have you recently indulged in human food?"

"Well…yeah." Grimmjow was unabashed. "I had a couple burgers last time I went to the human world to kill a few Soul Reapers and some weaker Hollow. What about it?"

Baraggan could not believe his ears. "Food is a horrid, infernal contraption invented by an evil human scientist as a diabolical plot to take over the world and will deteriorate your fighting skills until you are worse than Aaroniero and Zommari!"

Aaroniero and Zommari looked scandalized.

"What about your Twinkies, then?" Grimmjow asked. "Aren't they human food?" He gestured to the twenty-foot-high mountain of little cream-filled cakes stacked beside the self-proclaimed Hueco Mundo King.

Baraggan paused. "I…have no idea what you're talking about." He scooted his throne over in a vain attempt to conceal the ample cache of Twinkies.

Szayel whistled. "Wow. No wonder you never get off that chair." The others nodded.

Baraggan's face turned from crimson to violent purple with alarming speed. His fingers clenched. His body shook with the force of the barely contained emotion so his very throne vibrated as if full of electricity. His words were a savage, animalistic bellow which would have scared the Cero out of the oldest and most experienced Espada. Indeed, if Hollow could wet their pants, a certain few of those currently present—namely Aaroniero, Zommari, and Nnoitra—would have done so in that instant.

_"WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO FAT I HAVE MY OWN GRAVITATIONAL ATTRACTION?" _

Yammy, Harribel, Nel, Ulquiorra, Nnoitra, Grimmjow, Zommari, Aaroniero, and Luppi merely stared, wide-eyed, totally speechless. No one quite dared respond, either to confirm or refute this challenge. Szayel alone appeared unperturbed. In fact, he looked intrigued, an expression any who had known him for longer than five minutes would have understood to mean trouble.

"Hm…" He glanced around at each of his companions. After a moment of debate, he maneuvered through the motionless assembly toward Luppi's prostrate form. Luppi, too appalled by Baraggan's accusation, did not recognize the bespectacled Espada's presence until Szayel stooped and picked him up by the shoulders as effortlessly as Poww had hoisted up his master's fallen throne earlier. Before Luppi could so much as register his sudden new change in perspective, Szayel, with graceful ease, flung him at Baraggan like a highly effeminate missile. Baraggan did not see Luppi coming in time to duck. Instead of colliding into the elder Espada, however, Luppi froze abruptly in midair a couple feet above Baraggan's torso, as though caught in an invisible net. He hung there for a second, and then he began to orbit around Baraggan's head like an oddly-shaped moon captured by the gravitational pull of an equally peculiar planet.

"I KNEW IT!" Szayel cried in half-crazed triumph. "Science wins again! HA!"

The other Espada watched Luppi spin several feet off the ground, dumbfounded. In contrast, Luppi did not seem to mind this inexplicable turn of events. He stretched out and laced his hands behind his head like a man relaxing on a fine summer afternoon. He even started to hum.

Finally, Baraggan, despite how he became more and more disturbed by his so-called 'subjects' by the minute, decided to plunge onward. "Uh…anyway…" He ducked to avoid Luppi's legs as they floated inches from his face. "Moving on…" He gestured for Ggio to resume.

_**Tip Four: Always be nice to lazy pedophiles, pimps, emo-zombies, bug freaks, power whores, hippie lunatics, gender-confused mad scientists, oversized purple boogers, steroid freaks, girly-men, and bestiality-jailbait-big-melons-fantasies-packages. **_

This latest tip proved more effective for the rapid convalescence of the nine Espada than Inoue Orihime's best healing powers. It was even enough to awaken Starrk for a whole three seconds.

"Lazy pedophiles!" he cried, Sonidoed across the room, and punched Baraggan square in the jaw.

Then he fell down flat and went right back to sleep.

Baraggan was rocked back in his chair, but before he had a chance to recover, Harribel followed Starrk's example.

"Pimps!" She slapped Baraggan across the face with enough ferocity to shatter a human jaw.

"Emo-zombies!" Ulquiorra drove his fist into Baraggan's nose.

"Bug freaks!" Nnoitra whammed him outside the head.

"Power whores!" Grimmjow kicked him hard in the shin.

"Hippie lunatics!" Zommari elbowed him in the gut.

"Gender-confused mad scientists!" Szayel raised a fist, then stopped, considered, and shrugged. "Oh, well…yeah."

"Oversized purple boogers!" Aaroniero almost decapitated the elderly Espada with a vicious uppercut to the chin.

"Steroid freaks!" Yammy delivered a mega-steroid-pumped punch right to the back of Baraggan's skull.

"Girly-men!" Luppi smacked Baraggan as he continued to circle slowly over the dark-skinned Arrancar.

"Bestiality-jailbait-big-melons-fantasies-packages!" Nel delivered the final blow in Baraggan's already pounded-in face to further rearrange his features.

Baraggan lay limp upon his throne, thoroughly knocked out. Satisfied, the nine Espada resumed their places by the doorway, Harribel dragging Starrk along.

Ggio gazed, horrified, at his unconscious and bloody master. Findor cleared his throat and swooped down to record the fifth tip on the blackboard.

_**Tip Five: Always have your Hollow hole in suggestive or symbolic places.**_

Grimmjow regarded this message dubiously. "Why would that make you a good Espada?" he questioned as Baraggan regained his senses.

"Tsk, tsk," Baraggan admonished, wiping the blood from his nose. "Don't you _know_? A Hollow's hole _is _the Hollow! A Hollow is nothing without their hole! And we Arrancar are the greatest and most potent of all Hollow. Our holes must reflect our prominence. Therefore, they must be bigger and better than all other Hollow holes. The more powerful the Hollow, the grander the hole. Get it? That is why my hole is so much larger and more magnificent than yours!"

"Somehow I doubt that," Ulquiorra murmured.

Grimmjow looked down and inspected the hole in his midsection. "I think my hole is normal-sized…"

"Because you suck," Nnoitra jeered.

"Well, what does that say for _you_?" Grimmjow retorted. "Your hole is the smallest of all the Espada! _And _it's in your head!"

"Your hole is in your head?" Ulquiorra asked, faintly startled. "Well, that explains _everything_…"

Nnoitra sulked. "Oh, you can both suck my Cero."

Nel immediately perked. "Ooooh…can _I_ suck your Cero?"

Nnoitra's eyes widened in unspeakable terror as the green-haired Arrancar began to advance on him like the hunter closing in on her chosen prey. "NO! GET AWAY FROM ME, CRAZY LADY!" He dove behind Yammy and cowered there, trembling like a frightened rabbit. Nel appeared quite hurt by his reaction.

"All I wanted to do was swallow his Cero," she said dejectedly to Ulquiorra, who patted her shoulder with sympathy.

He thought of something then. It was something which had, naturally, occurred to him many a time before, but he had never found occasion to mention it. Now he did. "Hey, Szayel. Where is _your _hole?"

"My hole?" Szayel echoed, surprised.

Grimmjow turned, interested. So did Nel, Yammy, Harribel, Aaroniero, and Zommari. Starrk did not stir.

Szayel read their rapt expressions, and his lips curved in a mischievous, almost malicious smile. "You _really_ want to know?"

"Yes," Ulquiorra said, and though his visage was perfectly calm, it could not be doubted there was a hint of eagerness in his tone. This seemed to fuel Szayel's own devious enthusiasm.

"You really, _really _want to know?"

"Yes," Ulquiorra repeated.

"You really, really, _really _want to know?"

"Yes."

"You really, really, really, _really _want to know?"

"Yes."

"You really, really, really, really, _really_—"

Grimmjow's patience snapped. "JUST SHOW US ALREADY!"

"Fine, fine…bossy, bossy…well, here it is!"

For a split second, nothing moved. Then, quite abruptly, Grimmjow shouted, "MY EYES!" He staggered backward and threw his hands over his face as if blinded by a brilliant light.

"Whoa," was Harribel's sole comment.

Yammy gaped. He had obviously been traumatized.

Ulquiorra shook his head and turned away.

Zommari shrieked like a little girl and fainted. He hit the floor with a rending crash no one noticed.

Aaroniero was disturbed.

Nel suffered a sudden nosebleed.

Baraggan, unable to handle the knowledge, promptly died.

Nnoitra wished he had a Smoothie.

Starrk snored.

Szayel beamed around. "So? What do you think?"

"They put…" Ulquiorra began.

"…your hole…" Grimmjow continued.

"…_there_?" Yammy finished.

Luppi, who had observed everything from his position above the now-deceased Baraggan, spoke up then. "Ah, so they took that from you too, hm?"

Everyone stared.

"So," Szayel said jocundly. "Shall we go on?"

No one replied. His comrades were all quite speechless.

"All righty, then! Big B, take it away!" He pivoted to regard Baraggan, but the ancient Arrancar only sat there, slumped in his throne, inert. His arms dangled over the sides, limp as the limbs of a doll.

"Uh…Big B?"

No response. Grimmjow, now somewhat recovered from what Szayel had exposed to them—although not fully; he did not believe he would ever be able to fully recover from _that_—walked over to Baraggan and poked him hard in the ribs with a stick he appeared to have acquired out of thin air. Still, Baraggan remained motionless.

"I think he's dead," Grimmjow said.

A brief silence, and then Yammy, Harribel, Nel, Ulquiorra, Nnoitra, Zommari, and Aaroniero erupted in cheers. Nel again tried to tackle Nnoitra, but he evaded her and attempted to embrace Ulquiorra, who punched him in square in the chest and sent him reeling. Yammy tried the same with Harribel, with similar results. Both Nel and Harribel then pounced on Ulquiorra. Through all the commotion, Starrk went on sleeping, blissfully unaware of the entire proceedings. No one bothered to wake him up, even to give him the good news.

Meanwhile, Ggio, Findor, and Poww, Baraggan's most devoted sex slaves—er, Fraccion—were absolutely devastated. Ggio's lamentation could be heard even over the rejoicing of the Espada. "_Noooo! Master! Don't leave us!" _He and Findor burst into extremely noisy tears. Poww wept at Baraggan's feet, and the sounds of his grief shook the whole chamber.

"Oh, shut up," Grimmjow said coldly, and whacked them each in the head with the stick. They instantly quieted.

"Well, now that's over…" He stepped around Baraggan, cast the elder Espada one last repulsed and vaguely resentful glance, and delivered him a farewell smack with his weapon. Satisfied with himself, he rejoined the group.

"Hey, Grimm," Nnoitra said, curious. "Where did you get that?" He pointed to the stick.

"Pulled it out of your ass," Grimmjow answered bluntly.

Nnoitra blinked. "…"

"Oh, yeah?" Nel said. "So you found one, too, huh?"

"…"

Ulquiorra unveiled a stick identical to Grimmjow's from underneath his robes. "I found one, too."

"…"

"I found like three last time," Tesla piped up.

"…"

Nel turned to Nnoitra. "Where did you get all those sticks, anyway?"

"…"

"Nnoitra?"

"…"

"Hey, Mister 'Looks-like-a-giant-spoon!'" Grimmjow and waved a hand in Nnoitra's blank face. "The lady asked you a question."

"…"

"Uh…Master?" Tesla said tentatively, concerned.

"…Kaname."

Nel, Grimmjow, and Tesla blinked.

Ulquiorra, however, did not appear surprised. "Oh. That explains it."

Grimmjow looked offended. "How come he never gives _me_ any sticks?" he demanded of no one in particular

"He obviously doesn't like you," Ulquiorra said.

"Well, no one likes _you_!" Grimmjow cleverly shot back.

"Orihime does," Ulquiorra replied, not without a touch of arrogance.

Grimmjow paused. "She likes me more." He flashed Ulquiorra his characteristic 'you-know-I-am-better-than-you' smirk.

"She does not," Ulquiorra said, with the air of one explaining a very simple fact to a very obstinate child.

"She does too."

"Does not."

"Does too."

"Does not."

"Does too!"

"Does not."

"Does too!"

During this exchange, Harribel had studied Baraggan's unmoving form and ultimately concluded Grimmjow's assessment had been correct. The Second Espada and King of Hueco Mundo had either passed away or slipped into a coma of some sort. Whatever the case, he was certainly incapable of the continuation of his 'guide.' Relieved as Harribel might have been, she did not want to have forced herself out of bed this early in the morning for nothing. If she had come all this way for a lesson, regardless of how asinine and useless it turned out to be, she would have the full thing. Even if it meant she had to do it herself.

"Well." She raised her voice to address the rest of her companions. "Since the lazy moron is now dead—"

Yammy, Nel, Nnoitra, Zommari, and Aaroniero cheered. Ggio, Findor, and Poww wailed.

"—I guess this means we'll have to find someone else to go on with the guide."

"Does not," Ulquiorra said on the other side of the room.

"Does too!" Grimmjow retorted.

Szayel stepped up. "Well, if you insist, I suppose I simply _must_ take over—"

"She thinks I'm hot," Grimmjow said.

"She thinks I'm hotter," Ulquiorra responded.

"Does not!"

"Does too."

"Does not!"

"Does too."

"Hell no!" Yammy cried. "I should be the one!"

Szayel glanced over his shoulder at him with mocking exasperation. "What makes you think _you_ qualify? You're only the tenth Espada." He tossed his hair and waved his hand dismissively at Yammy. His demeanor was as it always seemed to be, one of presumed inherent superiority.

"Does not!" Grimmjow shouted.

"Does too," Ulquiorra scoffed.

Yammy looked incensed. "Hey! Are you questioning my Espada credentials?"

Szayel chuckled condescendingly. "If you can call what you have 'credentials'…"

"Does not!"

"Does too."

"Shows how much _you_ know!" Yammy snapped. "And you call yourself a scientist." He drew himself up proudly. "I'm _really _the Cero Espada, most powerful of them all!"

"True," Aaroniero granted. "On the other hand, you probably don't even know how to spell credentials…"

Yammy rounded on him. "Oh, and you _do_?"

Aaroniero was silent a moment. "…Shut up."

"Does not."

"Does too!"

"Does not!"

"Does too."

"SHUT UP!"

Harribel's voice reverberated throughout the chamber like a clash of thunder. The room hushed at once. Everyone stared at her, shocked. None of them could recall an instance in which they had heard her shout like that. Needless to say, they were all a trifle perturbed. All, that is, save for Szayel. Rather than recoil as the rest of them did, he whistled appreciatively.

Before Harribel could respond, a different voice resonated in the air. Smooth, polite, but with an underlayer of malicious derision, it was immediately recognizable as that of Ichimaru Gin.

"Did someone call for a replacement?"

The reaction was instant total chaos.

"AH! IT'S YOU!" Grimmjow cried, pointing a finger.

"AH! IT'S THE SILVER FOX!" Nel shrieked.

"AH! IT'S THE EVIL CLOWN!" Yammy screamed.

"AH! MY SMOOTHIE!" Nnoitra wailed. At his feet was a spreading puddle of a thick blue substance which seeped out of the clear plastic container he had held; Gin's abrupt appearance had caused him to jump and drop the drink.

"RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!" Aaroniero yelled, and tried to flee in the opposite direction, only to encounter solid unyielding wall.

Zommari, huddled behind the ruins of the door, covered his face with his hands and rocked back and forth, muttering to himself, "If I can't see him, he can't see me…if I can't see him, he can't see me…"

Starrk's greeting was a deafening snore.

"Oh, hello, Lord Ichimaru," Ulquiorra said calmly.

"Hello, everyone!" Gin hailed. He was apparently unaware of, or simply chose to disregard, the way the Arrancar had reacted to his presence.

Szayel's response was much different from that of his fellows. "Hey!" he said, irate. "What are _you_ doing here? You're not an Espada!"

Gin wagged a finger in his face, whacking him a few times in the nose. "Tsk, tsk…I come all this way to answer your distress call, and this is the thanks I get? How unjust!"

Suddenly, Tousen Kaname popped up out of nowhere. "My justice senses are tingling!"

"NO!" Grimmjow howled in utter despair. "NOT HIM, TOO!"

"NO!" screeched Yammy. "NOT THE DREADLOCKS! ANYTHING BUT THE DREADLOCKS!"

"NO!" Nel cried. "IT'S CYCLOPS!"

"No more X-Men for _you_," Harribel murmured.

Zommari rocked harder, his mutterings increasingly frantic. "They're like pictures in a book, they can't hurt you…"

"Hey!" Nnoitra said, evidently disappointed. "Who called you? You're not the pizza man!"

"EVERYBODY RUN!" Aaroniero leaped up and once again attempted to escape, only to run into the wall a second time.

"Hello, Lord Tousen," Ulquiorra said.

Kaname appeared aghast. "Well! I daresay their reactions are most unjustified!"

Gin nodded solemnly. "Most."

"WILL YOU ALL JUST SHUT UP?" Szayel bellowed.

Assured further commotion had been at least temporarily suppressed, Szayel glared at the Soul Reapers that stood in the blasted entryway. All trace of sardonic humor had faded from his expression. There was such abhorrence and fury in his amber orbs they seemed to blaze like twin suns with heat so intense it could almost be physically felt. Yammy, Zommari, Aaroniero, and Nnoitra did not notice this drastic alteration in Szayel's ambience, too preoccupied with Gin and Kaname themselves. Nel thought little of it, although it did send a slight unexplained chill down her spine. Only Harribel, Grimmjow, and Ulquiorra, who knew Szayel best, were genuinely affected. The former two appraised him sharply. Grimmjow could not dispel a faint touch of unease. When Szayel was angry, something was likely to explode, and the prospect this something might be _him_ did not particularly appeal to him. Ulquiorra performed a furtive Sonido and moved close to Grimmjow's side. What he experienced when he saw the look in Szayel's eyes was not fear, or even precisely the same half-instinctive wariness as Grimmjow; it simply made him uncomfortable.

Szayel walked slowly up to Gin and Kaname. His visage did not change, but his voice was pleasant. "What the hell are you two doing here? This is supposed to be a secret Espada meeting, you know."

"Set up by Lord Aizen," Kaname pointed out.

"And announced to the entirety of Hueco Mundo," Gin added.

Szayel face-faulted.

"Wasn't very secret, then," Harribel commented dryly.

Szayel shot her a 'you-are-not-helping-things' stare.

"Cheese?" Nnoitra suggested hopefully.

Grimmjow twitched. "Who the hell said anything about _cheese_?"

Harribel exhaled softly. "Are we going to continue this damn thing or not? I'm starting to bore…"

Szayel perked immediately. "Well, "if you insist…"

Gin shoved him aside suddenly and Shunpoed to the monolithic blackboard on which Ggio and Findor had written the five tips Baraggan had given them. "So, where were we?"

"Hey!" Szayel cried, indignant to have been treated in such a manner.

Gin ignored him. "Ah, yes," he said.

"Wait a minute!" Szayel demanded, but again, his protest went unacknowledged.

"Now," Gin announced, "we shall continue!" He grabbed the twisted horns which constituted the back of Baraggan's throne and dragged the chair, motionless Espada and all, over to the board. Then, heedless of the appalled objections of Baraggan's Fraccion, he climbed on top of the throne itself. Balanced precariously on the horns, he wrote in large, looping letters with a piece of chalk he had found on the floor:

_**A Guide on How to Be an Espada, as Told by Ichimaru Gin, Aizen Sousuke's Right-Hand Man**_

"Yeah, I bet you are," Szayel grumbled. "I bet you do a _lot_ for Aizen with that right hand…"

"Actually," Gin said, "I'm left-handed."

Szayel did not quite know what to say to that.

Gin only smiled.

_**Tip Six: Have plenty of friends/comrades to cheer you on and possibly sacrifice themselves so you can survive.**_

Ulquiorra raised an eyebrow at this. "Somehow, I don't think that is the meaning of friendship…or comradeship…"

"You've been spending too much time with Orihime," Harribel told him. Ulquiorra shrugged, but did not dispute the allegation.

"I agree with the asshole clown over there," Grimmjow said. "Who needs _friends_?" Of course, his immediate thought was of a certain orange-haired individual with whom he had fought on a numerous previous occasions.

Ulquiorra turned to him with big round puppy eyes. "But I thought _I_ was your friend…?"

Grimmjow's bottom lip began to tremble. For a moment, it looked as if he would weep. "Oh, yes, Ulqui, you are my _best_ friend!" he cried, and they HUGGED, not hugged but HUGGED.

Zommari sighed dreamily. "The beauty of love…"

"Man, get a room," Aaroniero said, disgusted.

"Better yet," Yammy said, likewise disturbed, "get a _country_."

"Or a dimension," Gin suggested cheerfully.

Harribel blinked. "Did I miss something?"

Nel automatically pulled out a camera from her robes and started taking pictures.

Nnoitra looked sad. "What happened to my Smoothie?"

Kaname stepped up beside Gin. "My turn!" he called, and all attention diverted to him. "For the forces of justice, let us commence!"

Everyone groaned.

_**Tip Seven: Always keep your eyes shaded or closed so as to conceal them from the enemy. Or simply don a pair of glasses to make you look slightly geeky—and style your hair accordingly—so your enemies never suspect you are an evil badass seeking to destroy a thousand souls to forge a key and possibly take over the entire world. For justice! **_

Grimmjow seemed skeptical. "Shouldn't that be on 'A Guide on How to Scam the Soul Society' or something?"

"For once, he has a point," Ulquiorra agreed. "That tip is a bit useless for us."

"Perhaps," Kaname conceded, "but justice dictates you should still wear the shades."

"What would that do?" Grimmjow asked, more than a little aggravated. He would never have worn a pair of glasses like Kaname had if it meant Kurosaki Ichigo would finally lose a battle. Preferably to him.

"Make you look _mysterious_…"

"Not to mention eyeless," Gin piped up.

"Like a mole!" Nel put in.

Nnoitra gasped. "He's one of the mole people!" He picked a large stone from the pile of rubble at the doorway and promptly chucked it at Kaname's head. Kaname did not have time to duck. It struck the center of his forehead and he went down. Everyone stared, unsure what had happened.

"The mole people took my brain," Nnoitra explained.

Everyone sweatdropped.

"They put this hole in my head."

Make that double-sweatdropped.

"Always thought there was something funny about him…" Gin mused.

Triple-sweatdrop.

Luppi, still airborne and locked in perpetual, almost perfectly circular orbit in the space around Baraggan's lifeless body, pivoted toward Nnoitra with an air of startled serendipity. "Hey, I know those people! They were the ones who took my—"

"Actually," Szayel interrupted, "that was me."

Luppi said nothing for a moment. "Oh. Really?"

Szayel nodded confirmation. "Indeed."

"Huh."

"Hm-hm."

"Well."

"Yeah."

"So…"

"Uh-huh…"

"That's nice."

"Yep."

Luppi hesitated. "Can I have it back?"

"No way."

He looked a little crestfallen, but unsurprised. "Oh. OK."

Harribel nudged Kaname with the tip of her toe. He did not stir. "Is he dead?"

Gin's smile broadened. "I'm taking his wallet." He bent over, explored Kaname's robes for several seconds, and finally pulled out a small black wallet embroidered with the legend, _Justice prevails! _He pocketed it without so much as a glance inside and, satisfied, turned back to the board.

"So, where were we?"

_**Tip Eight: Kill all Soul Reapers that come your way.**_

_**Tip Nine: Use Resurreccion only in times of great emergency. **_

"Are you just saying these things randomly because you can't think of anything else?" Grimmjow asked.

Gin appeared aghast at the implication. "NO!" he exclaimed at once, quite unconvincingly.

Grimmjow raised his brow.

"Well," Gin amended, "sort of…"

Szayel put his hands on his hips and tilted his head slightly.

"Maybe…"

Harribel coughed.

"ALL RIGHT! Yes! I am, OK? Happy now?" He burst into very loud and very fake tears.

Everyone seemed rather astonished, except for Ulquiorra, who only sighed in resignation.

"Here we go again…"

"Is he always like this?" Yammy inquired.

"Bipolar and prone to random fits of insanity? Always."

"Hey," Szayel piped, "did you know when he was a kid he killed one of his comrades?"

"Really?" Luppi said.

"Yeah, Third Seat of his own division."

"Whoa, harsh."

"No kidding. And he actually had a _girlfriend _in the Soul Society."

"_No_!" Luppi cried incredulously.

"Yep…and according to rumor, she had some pretty ample endowments, too, if you know what I mean." Szayel grinned, not without a trace of lechery…and for some reason, his gaze strayed briefly to Harribel.

Luppi looked skeptical. "Like Orihime's?"

"_Better _than Orihime's." Szayel winked at Ulquiorra, who only gave him an apathetic glance at the mention of Orihime's name.

Luppi gasped. "No _way_!"

"Way."

"Really?"

"Really. And his Zanpakutou _elongates_."

Luppi was fascinated. "Wow!"

"Yeah."

"Awesome!"

"Yep!"

Grimmjow scoffed. "This is stupid."

Gin automatically switched off the waterworks and whirled to face the tall blue-haired Espada. "Hey! You just wait, kitty! This next tip will KICK ALL THE OTHER TIPS' ASSES."

Ulquiorra rolled his eyes.

Harribel groaned.

Szayel and Luppi continued their conversation, unaware.

Zommari watched Gin, his expression rapt.

Aaroniero nursed the bumps on his head where he had struck the wall in his panicked endeavors to flee when Kaname and Gin had arrived.

Nnoitra had started to creep his way slowly to the mountain of Twinkies behind Baraggan's throne.

Nel observed Nnoitra's progress in her peripheral vision, prepared to tackle when the opportunity arose.

Yammy tried to envision 'endowments' more ample than Orihime's.

Starrk snored away.

Grimmjow twitched. "'_Kitty'_?"

_**The ULTIMATE, GREATEST, SUPER, MUST FOLLOW TIP: Always follow smexy evil mastermind Soul Reapers!**_

Now everyone seemed afflicted by irrepressible urges to twitch. "_Smexy_?"

Gin went on, blissfully ignorant. "And if you're going to scam a whole society to initiate your evil master plan, make sure you masquerade as a Captain of the Thirteen Court Guard Squads in the Soul Society!" He brandished his chalk as if it were a sword.

"Why?" Zommari asked, engrossed.

"Free lodgings, great benefits, awesome outfits, and most of all…endless free sake!"

Zommari cheered. The others face-faulted.

"That explains _everything_…" Ulquiorra muttered.

"And, of course…" Gin released a dreamy sigh. "My beloved Izuru and Byakuya…oh, how I still cherish them so…"

Grimmjow laughed scornfully. "That's the stupidest thing I have ever heard!"

Gin huffed and pouted at him in a sardonic dissimulation of puerile truculence. "Only because _you're_ stupid."

"What?" Grimmjow flared at once. "You wanna say that to my face, you circus freak?"

"Threatening Lord Aizen's second-in-command?" Ulquiorra said, one eyebrow raised. "You're just proving his point…"

Grimmjow whirled. "_What_ did you say?" he growled in a low, dangerous voice.

"You heard me," Ulquiorra replied coolly. His serene emerald eyes met Grimmjow's irate sapphires. The two Espada glared intently at each other, motionless as a pair of statues frozen in the midst of a silent bloodless battle, neither willing to avert their gaze and surrender.

Harribel slapped her forehead in exasperation. "Not again…"

"Go Ulquiorra!" Nel cheered.

"C'mon, Grimmy! Show that pretty boy what a real Espada is!" Aaroniero called.

"They're like a couple of three-year-olds," Yammy remarked.

Szayel diverted his attention from Luppi long enough to walk up to the much taller Espada. "Hey, Yammy."

"What?" Yammy asked, a bit irritably. He did not look down, too engaged in the wordless war fought between Ulquiorra and Grimmjow. Privately, his bets were on Ulquiorra as victor. Grimmjow never won against his higher-ranked comrade.

He was so absorbed in watching the two he neither saw nor felt when Szayel's hand snapped upward and tugged quickly at his nose. He did not realize the Eighth Espada had done anything at all until Szayel said in singsong, "Got your nose!"

Yammy looked down, at first bewildered. Then he saw Szayel's right hand was clenched into a fist, and from between the index and middle fingers there was a strange rounded protuberance. His initial thought was that was not natural, but it took him near thirty seconds to register what Szayel had said and what that odd bulge must be.

He shrieked. "MY NOSE! MY BEAUTIFUL NOSE! WHAT HAVE YOU DOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNEEEEEEEEE E?" He began to run around the room in circles, screaming at the top of his lungs, clutching the lower half of his face.

Kaname awoke as Gin put the chalk he had used back on the ground beneath the board. He suffered a minor headache, but otherwise had escaped Nnoitra's impromptu assault with the stone unscathed. "Has justice been served?" he asked.

"Not at all!" Gin proclaimed indignantly. "You only had twenty bucks in that wallet!" He tossed the aforementioned item at Kaname, who caught it on instinct, bemused. Gin turned away with a sigh. "Oh, why couldn't we have taken Byakuya instead of you? At least he was worth robbing…" A distant dreaminess overcame him. "Plus, he had a _great_ ass…and such a beautiful big—"

"Robbery and lechery are violations of justice!" Kaname scolded the other man. "Besides, my ass is _much_ better!"

Gin seemed to cough, choke, and gag all at the same time.

"You mock me!" Kaname cried. "I shall tell Lord Aizen of this injustice!" He pivoted and rushed toward the doorway.

"Hey!" Gin shouted after him, alarmed. "Wait!" He paused. "Don't tell him about his robes! I swear I meant to clean them afterwards! _Kaname_!" He hurried in pursuit of his errant companion, reeling off mingled half-coherent threats and admonitions and pleas for mercy.

Nel, meanwhile, had remembered Baraggan for the first time. "Um…shouldn't we do something about him?" she questioned uncertainly, but Harribel shook her head.

"Nah, leave him there. Luppi's having too much fun, anyway."

Luppi did indeed appear to be enjoying himself immensely. As he continued to orbit, he intoned, "Round and round I go, where I stop, nobody knows! Round and round, round and round, round and round, round and round…"

Nnoitra had reached the Twinkies at last and, unnoticed by any of the others except Ggio, who had been swiftly taken care of with a single casual swipe of Nnoitra's blade, now indulged in the stolen goodies with sweet gluttonous abandon. He was also singing, strangely synchronized with Luppi. "Lovely Twinkies, oh, so good, best food in the neighborhood! Nothing beats these cream-filled cakes, so let's eat a Twinkie and mutilate!"

As Szayel laughed his flawlessly sculpted hindquarters off, Yammy ran rampant, bumping into walls, tripping over scattered rocks and his own feet, still holding his presumed dismembered face. "MY NOSE! MY NOSE! SOMEONE GET ME A MIRROR! OR A PLASTIC SURGEON! MY NOSE!"

Ulquiorra and Grimmjow glared at one another, aware of nothing else. Finally, Grimmjow did the unthinkable.

He blinked.

Ulquiorra made an L with his thumb and forefinger and pressed it to his forehead. "You lose."

Grimmjow scowled. "One of these days I'll beat you," he vowed in undertone. "One of these days…"

Suddenly, Starrk jerked and sat up. He blinked owlishly around the room, taking in the peculiar and chaotic scenery. "What did I miss?"


	2. Soul Reapers One: Love Hurts

**Hope you all enjoyed my first Arrancar tale. ;)**

**So here is my first Soul Reaper-centered story, featuring none other than the irresistible Kuchiki Byakuya and his lovable Lieutenant, Abarai Renji. Compared to the last one, it is a bit dull, but I hope you like it, and please do leave a review at the end! XD**

_**Tales of the Soul Reapers: One**_

_Summary: _Renji thinks his Captain is too uptight, and how better to cheer him up than find him a girl? Thus, he and an unexpected helper set out to play matchmaker for the seemingly cold-hearted Kuchiki.

_Main cast: _Byakuya, Renji, Yoruichi.

_Pairings: _Byakuya/?

_Overall warnings: _Byakuya. Renji. Yoruichi. Alone. Discussing romance. Need I say more?

**Love Hurts**

Abarai Renji had a problem.

One tall, dark, and handsome problem.

One tall, dark, handsome, insufferably _brooding_ problem.

One tall, dark, handsome, insufferably brooding problem he would have to take care of very, very soon, before it drove him completely insane. And he meant that with the utmost respect.

"Captains," he muttered darkly, and stabbed his chopsticks viciously into his bowl of rice. "_Nobles_. Can't live with them, can't stick your Zanpakutou in them."

"What's that, Renji?"

Renji jumped. Lost in his moody contemplations, he had forgotten he was not alone in the room. From across the table, exotic golden eyes observed him questioningly, with the vaguest hint of what might have been either exasperation or amusement.

"Nothing, nothing," Renji said hastily. In an admittedly hopeless endeavor to obviate further interrogation, he proceeded to stuff himself with every morsel of food in reach.

Shihoin Yoruichi raised an eyebrow. After all the years she had tried to prevent Urahara Kisuke from leaving everything he touched in total irrevocable ruin and the rather stressful time she had spent dealing with the equally awkward and clueless Kurosaki Ichigo, she had become more or less accustomed to such hapless behavior. It struck her, as it often did, how eerily alike Renji, Ichigo, and Urahara were. She sometimes wondered if they were not long lost siblings, or if Kisuke had had one too many wild nights about the Seireitei and Karakura Town…

She severed _that_ thought before it had a chance to finish. The last thing she needed was to discover her best friend had two illegitimate sons running around. Renji and Ichigo were certain to murder the Soul Reaper turned shopkeeper without pause, and she was unsure she would have been inclined to stop them.

"Talking to yourself, Renji?" she inquired pleasantly, after she had given him a moment to choke on the copious amounts of food he was shoving down his throat. "Am I such dull company you must resort to having conversations with yourself?"

Renji did not reply. He had drifted off into his own head again, his gaze fixed on the table, a faint troubled crease in his brow. Not one to be ignored, Yoruichi leaned over and snapped her fingers loudly right in front of the auburn-haired Lieutenant's nose. Renji blinked back into awareness, but before he did, she distinctly heard him murmur, "…Captain Kuchiki."

"What about Byakuya?"

"Huh? Wha—?"

"Byakuya," Yoruichi repeated patiently. "You said something about Byakuya." She paused, and then said slyly, "Daydreaming about your Captain, Renji?"

Renji's face went red. "Wha—? What are you talking about?"

"My, my," Yoruichi purred. "This is interesting…not that I blame you, of course. He really does make that haori look _good_, doesn't he? I wouldn't mind getting him out of it myself…"

Renji's blush deepened. "Wha—? No way! You pervert! That's not…that's not what I was thinking! I would never…I mean, he'd kill me…I wouldn't…"

Yoruichi grinned. "All right, all right. Let's say I believe you. What _were_ you thinking?"

"Well…" Renji hesitated. "I'm…worried. Just a little."

Yoruichi sat up, her head tilted slightly to the side. "Why?"

Renji sighed. "The Captain. He's always so…_withdrawn_. I can't really say he's sad, because I can never tell _what_ he feels. He's just…he's so…"

"Emotionless," Yoruichi finished for him, with a small, knowing smile.

"Distant," Renji said gloomily. "Like half the time he's not even there. I want him to acknowledge me_ somehow_, with respect, pride, anger, affection. Hell, even hate._ Anything_. But no matter what I do, I can't seem to get him to show _any _emotion. Sure, when I've fought him, I thought I caught brief glimpses of something like genuine feeling, but off the battlefield he's always so..._cold_." He shifted a little. "I just realized I've never seen him smile. Rukia hasn't, either, I don't think. I would like to see it. Just once. It'd be a nice change." He rested his chin on his arms, crossed on the periphery of the table.

Yoruichi appraised the young man thoughtfully. "You care about him, don't you?"

Renji started. He looked honestly stunned for a moment, and then color seeped into his cheeks again. "I didn't…I don't…he's my Captain! I have to work with him! _You_ try it sometime!"

"I have," Yoruichi said. "I trained him, at least partially."

"You have my sympathy," Renji mumbled.

"Oh, he was a lot different back then." Yoruichi lifted her gaze reminiscently to the ceiling. "He was a bit like you, actually. Impulsive, rude, too arrogant for his own good…and so cute it hurt." She sighed wistfully. "I miss the ponytail. It's impossible to steal those hair curlers of his without him noticing…"

"Kenseikan," Renji corrected automatically. "They're called kenseikan."

"Whatever."

Renji paused, and then seemed to register the rest of what she had said. "Hey, wait! Did you just call me impulsive, rude, and too arrogant for my own good?"

Yoruichi fiddled absently with her chopsticks. "Did I mention I love the tattoos? I always thought Byakuya should get one. I told him he should get it right on his—"

"Yeah, OK," Renji interrupted. His complexion was now as red as his hair. "I think I get the point."

"Hm." Yoruichi picked up the remains of her roasted fish and tossed it deftly into her mouth. "Anyway, as I was saying, he was a lot more lively back then. It was only after his wife died he really became—"

She stopped. So did Renji. They stared at each other, eyes wide. Abruptly, they both leapt to their feet, consequently knocking their trays over, though neither noticed.

"That's it!" the two cried in unison.

…

Kuchiki Byakuya stifled a yawn as he sifted through the mountains of paperwork laid out across his desk. He had put off this dull mandatory labor for as long as he could, but eventually he had been simply unable to ignore the ever-accumulating stacks of unfiled reports, and now he faced the consequences of his procrastination. The day was warm and beautiful, but he was trapped inside this stuffy office, held prisoner by the masses of neglected work. He would have continued to act like it did not exist for his own benefit, but Yamamoto had become increasingly impatient with Soul Reapers—particularly Captains—who did not fulfill their duties in a timely fashion. Byakuya frequently wondered if the old man had always been so grumpy and belligerent, or if his age had eroded whatever affability he might once have possessed. The young leader of Squad Six strongly suspected the former, although neither Ukitake Jushiro nor Kyoraku Shunsui, who knew the Head Captain best, would comment on the matter. The most Byakuya had managed to get out of them was a cryptic remark from Shunsui: "In life, things get stuck up there, kiddo. Sometimes, they're just too big to remove…"

Byakuya had not asked for clarification.

"I have to remember to make Renji do this," he murmured to himself. Then again, his Lieutenant had a curious tendency to be absent whenever such orders might be given. There were times when Byakuya pondered the prospect his often abrasive, occasionally affectionate in that peculiar tentative manner of his, subordinate might not be telepathic.

If only Byakuya had been psychic, he might have foreseen what was to happen next, and therefore avoided it. As it was, he had no idea his aforementioned Lieutenant and former teacher-rival lingered at the door to his office, watching him and debating.

"Uh…are you sure about this, Yoruichi?" Renji muttered.

"This was your idea, Abarai," Yoruichi pointed out.

"What? This was _your_ idea!"

Yoruichi made an annoyed gesture. "It was _both_ our ideas. Who cares? I'm not backing down. You know he'll never do this for himself, so it's our duty to do it for him!"

"Whoever said _that_?"

"We're his friends!" Yoruichi whispered furiously. "And he needs our help! We can't just ignore that! Besides, you said yourself you have to work with him…"

"All right, all right!" Renji threw up his hands in surrender. "I get it. Let's just go, then…" He dropped his voice to near inaudibility. "But if we die here, I'm haunting your ghost."

"Meh, my ghost would kick your ghost's tattooed ass." An impish, almost cruel glint came to her eyes, and she cracked her knuckles menacingly. "If we die here, I'll finally be able to tell that Hisana exactly what I think about her marrying _my_ Byakuya…"

Renji sweatdropped. "You know, he might have married_ you_ if you hadn't run off with some pimp in a hat."

Yoruichi looked scandalized. "I did not—how could you even suggest—he didn't even _have_ the hat back then!"

Renji rolled his eyes, but said no more. He peered in on his Captain again. For a moment he only stood there, then he took a deep breath, gathered what courage he had, and strolled right into the room as if this were not willful suicide. Yoruichi followed close behind.

"Hello, Captain," Renji hailed in the cheeriest tone he could muster. The result was a high, cracked, rather creepy singsong which did nothing to conceal his anxiety.

Byakuya glanced up. He offered the younger man a brisk nod in acknowledgement and returned his attention to the papers.

Renji hovered awkwardly before the desk. His expression shifted from nervous to determined to downright terrified and back to nervous again. Yoruichi looked at him expectantly, her arms crossed, tapping her foot impatiently.

As last, after several extended moments, Byakuya resignedly lifted his gaze to his Lieutenant. "Renji, is there something you wanted?"

Renji tensed like a rabbit which realizes it has fallen into the sights of the wolf. "Uh…well…"

Byakuya rested his chin in his palm and regarded the flustered redhead with a raised eyebrow. "Renji, I'm busy. Spit it out or leave."

Renji placed a hand over his mouth, bemused. "Huh? Spit out what?"

Yoruichi elbowed him. "He didn't mean it literally, you idiot. He meant say what you're here to say."

"Or leave," Byakuya added.

"Or you can leave," Yoruichi agreed.

"You, too, Yoruichi," Byakuya said.

"Me, too," Yoruichi echoed. She paused. "Hey!" She rounded on him immediately, indignant. "You can't just throw me out!"

"It _is_ my office," Byakuya said coolly.

"I don't care if you built it, bought it, sold it, and bought it again! Twice! You cannot just dismiss a lady like that! It's improper! It's unseemly! It's…un-noble-like!"

"Well," Byakuya said, "when I meet a lady, I will be sure to remember that."

For an instant, it looked as though Yoruichi would pounce on the dark-haired man and strangle him, but she only huffed and turned petulantly away. "Fine! See if I ever fight with your wife over you when I'm dead!"

Byakuya decided it would ultimately be better not to inquire as to the meaning of this last inexplicable statement. Instead, he averted his focus back to his Lieutenant.

Renji cleared his throat. "Captain…I've been thinking…"

"For a change," Byakuya interjected. Renji glared, but chose to let the comment pass.

"And Yoruichi and I have agreed—"

Before he could continue, however, Yoruichi, apparently over her righteous fury Byakuya would treat her with such blatant disrespect, leapt catlike onto the desk and landed almost in the elder Kuchiki's lap. Byakuya blinked, too startled to react. Yoruichi leaned in uncomfortably close —at least as far as Byakuya was concerned—full lips curved in a devious, seductive smile he remembered all too well from his childhood.

"Have you seen that Matsumodo Rangiku lately?" she purred. "If I may be so bold as to say so, that woman is _hot_!"

Total silence greeted this. Byakuya, who looked ever so slightly disturbed, pushed his chair back to place some much needed distance between himself and Yoruichi. "Happy as I am to hear you have finally decided to come out of the closet, Yoruichi, if you could take your revelations somewhere else…"

"No, no!" Yoruichi cried impatiently. "This isn't about me, this is about _you_." She jabbed a finger at him.

Byakuya stared blankly. "Weren't you just talking about Hitsugaya's Lieutenant?"

Yoruichi faltered. "Well…yes…but…oh, will you pay attention!" Once again, much to the chagrin of the Squad Six Captain, she leaned in so their noses nearly touched. "Renji and I came here to tell you what you should have realized the instant that bit…er, _woman_ you married died. _You. Need. A. Girlfriend." _She accentuated each word with a fierce poke to his chest.

Byakuya did not respond for several seconds.

"…Huh?"

Yoruichi smacked her palm to her brow. She wheeled around and bounded off the table to resume her original place by Renji. Byakuya appeared immensely relieved she was no longer invading his personal space. The older woman pivoted, hands on her hips, and glared intensely at the grey-eyed Soul Reaper.

"You listen to me, Kuchiki. I know it must have been difficult to lose someone you cared for like that. I realize what a scar it leaves, but for the sake of all things good, that was _sixty years—_"

"Fifty," Renji corrected.

"_Fifty years ago_! You can't sit around and mope forever! It's time you found someone, _moved on_ with your life! True strength is getting back up again after you've fallen. None of us want to see you lock yourself away forever. I know you're not as cold as you try to act. Somewhere in there, you still have a good heart. You're gorgeous, rich, famous, strong, kind and generous when you're not being a total asshole. You could have any woman you want, so don't dwell on the only one you can't have! You deserve better than this, Byakuya. You don't have to be lonely. Let us help you. If you try, I know you will find the right one for you." As she said this, she continuously not-so-subtly pointed and gestured at herself. She might as well have donned a neon sign which proclaimed 'Look Here' and 'the Right One.'

Byakuya, however, had immersed himself once more into his paperwork, and had obviously not paid attention to a word of this speech. Yoruichi and Renji looked meaningfully at him, but he offered no reply. His visage had become inscrutable once more, detached, without emotion.

Yoruichi placed her hands on the desk and bent closer. Her smirk had reappeared. "So…what do you think of her?"

"…Who?"

"Rangiku! You know, long, lush orange hair, sultry lips, a bust to _die_ for…"

After that, Byakuya tuned her out. The last thing he wanted was to discuss female endowments with this woman. "Hm," he said indifferently. "Sure. Right."

Yoruichi frowned and looked at Renji. The auburn-haired Lieutenant mused a moment, and then approached the desk. "Rangiku is a bit ditzy, though," he conceded. "Not so much your type. So what about Isane? I think I've seen her eyeing you a couple times, Captain...I'd say she's interested in you as more than just a comrade, if you know what I mean…" He winked.

"Hm. Sure. Right."

Yoruichi hesitated. "Nah, not Isane," she said. "Too man-like. Oh!" Her eyes lit up. "Now, what about Captain Unohana, eh? Now she's _quite_ the looker, and she's older, so she's far more mature than either Rangiku or Isane. She's tough, too. Any woman who can have Ukitake and Shunsui wrapped around her little finger _has_ to be badass."

Byakuya did not glance up. "Hm. Sure. Right."

"But aren't she and Ukitake together?" Renji said uncertainly.

Yoruichi's enthusiasm faded. "Oh, yeah, forgot about that…"

"What about Nanao, then?" Renji suggested. "Smart, pretty, and she has that serious attitude, just like you, Captain. I bet you would make a great couple!"

"Hm," Byakuya said as he signed what seemed like the millionth document and placed it in the growing pile beside him. "Sure. Right."

"They would," Yoruichi assented, "but Shunsui would tear his head off."

"Really?" Renji enquired, a little alarmed.

"Yeah. He doesn't like anyone sleeping with his Lieutenant."

"He…he doesn't?"

"Nope. If you ever want to see Kyoraku turn into a homicidal maniac, that's all you have to do…Renji, why are you so pale?"

"Oh, uh, it's nothing…nothing at all…" Yet he looked distinctly ill.

"Well, anyway…" Yoruichi averted her attention to Byakuya again. "There's always that Lieutenant of Squad Twelve…what's her name? Oh, yes, Nemu. Talk about _hot_."

"Hm. Sure. Right."

Renji, still struggling to recover from his most recent shock, looked over his shoulder. "I would agree with you," he said, "but…she also happens to be a robot."

Yoruichi appeared unsure how to react to this information. "Uh…she is?"

Renji nodded soberly. "Captain Kurotsuchi created her."

"Oh…" Suddenly, she brightened. "Well, why not? All the better! I mean, who _hasn't_ fantasized about cyborgs?"

Renji's initial response was surprised disgust, but then, gradually, his expression became thoughtful. "You have a point," he admitted. His brow furrowed. "But…her body also happens to be loaded with poisons."

Yoruichi blinked. "What?"

"Yeah." Renji shuddered. "One touch and you'd end up hallucinating, having seizures, foaming at the mouth, and you'll destroy everything around you until you die a slow, horrible, unimaginably agonizing death!"

Silence.

"Oh," Yoruichi said in a very small voice. "Well, then…forget about that. Let us move on."

"Agreed," Renji said.

Meanwhile, Byakuya belatedly realized he had signed each of the documents on the wrong line. Mentally berating himself for his lack of attentiveness in his work—prosaic and useless as it might have been, in his not-so-humble opinion—he picked up the enormous stack of papers and replaced them on the 'unfinished' side of his desk. With a resigned sigh, he resumed the monotonous, torporific process.

"There's always Momo," Renji said, although he did not sound particularly enthusiastic. "She's not so bad, really…I considered asking her out, but then we met Captain Aizen and she got all weird and obsessed…"

"Hm," Byakuya said wisely. "Sure. Right."

"She's still obsessed," Yoruichi pointed out. "And besides, Hitsugaya would not like that much…"

"Hitsugaya can kiss my ass," Renji muttered. Yoruichi raised an inquisitive eyebrow, but Renji did not offer clarification, and she elected not to request it.

"What about Kiyone?"

"_Who_?"

Yoruichi gave the younger man a half-exasperated, half-amused look. "_Kiyone_. The female half of the Third Seat of Rukia's squad."

Renji still appeared confused. "Third Seat of Rukia's squad…" Recognition dawned. "Oh! You mean the blonde one?"

"Yes, that one."

"Oh, all right…" Renji frowned abruptly. "Wait a minute…that's a _girl_?"

"Yes, Renji, that is a girl. Once again, you dazzle with your exceptional powers of observation."

Renji drew himself up proudly. "Well, thank you, Yoruichi. I do not like to brag, but…"

Yoruichi sweatdropped. "Anyway…"

Renji's demeanor turned businesslike again. "I have to disagree with you once more, Yoruichi. Kiyone just won't work."

"Why not? She really isn't a bad person…a bit shy when it comes to anyone beside her partner with the bad haircut there, but otherwise…"

"Hm," Byakuya voiced his assent. "Sure. Right."

Renji shook his head regretfully. "He…er…she is far too in love with Captain Ukitake. I don't even think he, er, _she_ realizes anyone else exists."

Yoruichi paused. "Good point."

Byakuya blinked. Wait, there was something wrong here. It had been nagging at him for the last ten minutes; he felt he should have noticed it before. He studied the form in front of him more closely. Since when had Squad Six been monkey trainers?

The dark-haired Kuchiki sighed. "Gin," he muttered under his breath, crumpled up the paper, and threw it away.

"No, no, Captain," Renji said absently. "There are no women named Gin in the Seireitei I know of…" He leaned against the desk, and consequently would have caused the stack of paperwork on it to topple over if Byakuya had not managed to steady it in time. He did not sense the murderous glare his Captain gave his back, too absorbed in the convoluted trails of his own thoughts.

He considered the options which remained. There were a dismal few. On the verge of desperation, ambivalent but aware of no alternative, he resorted to drastic measures. "Well, what about Soi—"

Yoruichi, however, hastily interjected. "There is always Orihime."

Renji paused, mouth open, a trifle startled. Despite how often he traversed between the Soul Society and the Living World to enjoy the company of the quartet of aberrant humans who had become an integral part of the affairs of the Soul Society since their attempted invasion when Rukia was to be executed, the prospect of the group's effervescent, fumbling, eccentric female member had not occurred to him. Even Byakuya glanced up, although whether this was because of Yoruichi's suggestion or the fly which had landed on the tip of his nose, one never knew.

"Orihime?" Renji repeated blankly.

"Yes, of course." Yoruichi smiled impishly in Byakuya's direction. "I mean, sure, she is a bit of an idiot and more often than not useless, but she does have certain…prominent endearing qualities about her, as well, wouldn't you agree?"

"True," Renji said, "but isn't she too young?"

"Oh, who cares about _age_? When two people are truly meant to be, years hardly matter." She made an odd gesticulation as she said this, waving between herself and Byakuya. "Right?"

"Hm," was Byakuya's clever, insightful reply. "Sure. Right."

"I hear you," Renji said. "But still…" He shook his head. "I don't think that would work. A human and a Soul Reaper?"

"Rukia and Ichigo seem to be managing it."

Renji's gaze hardened. "Well, that's them. They're a bit of a special case, aren't they?"

Black murder burned in the auburn-haired Lieutenant's eyes. Yoruichi took the hint and changed the subject.

"They all do spend an awful lot of time in the Soul Society these days anyway. So what do you think?"

Renji calmed; the atmosphere around him no longer seemed saturated with latent, potentially deadly lightning. "Well…I guess we can't completely rule it out…but then again, I wouldn't say she's the Captain's type. Plus, isn't she head over heels for Ichigo or some Espada or something?"

"Who knows?" Yoruichi shrugged. "That girl switches love interests faster than Aizen switches sides."

"Next," Renji said dully. He lapsed into another ephemeral pensive silence, and then tentatively began, "There's still Soi—"

"That Arrancar Ichigo brought back with him from Hueco Mundo, what's her name?"

Cut off for the second time, Renji took a moment to understand what she was talking about. "You mean Nel?"

"Yeah, her."

"What about her?"

"Think she'd make a good match?"

Renji's response was immediate and decisive. "No."

Yoruichi looked slightly crestfallen. "How come?"

Renji's brow lifted. "Would _you _date someone who goes from child to adult to child more often than Ichigo goes into Bankai?"

"…I see your point."

"Hm," said Byakuya. "Sure. Right."

"So who's left?"

"Well, there's always Ichigo's sisters," Renji proposed half-heartedly. Yoruichi did not even bother to acknowledge this with an answer.

"Maybe we're thinking too hard about this," she said. She bent over the desk again, nearer to Byakuya. He gave no outward indication he recognized her presence this time, however. "Maybe…the one we are looking for…the one _you_ are looking for…has been right in front of you the entire time."

As if the implication in her words was not already obvious, she pointed vigorously at herself. Yet her efforts were in vain; Byakuya still appeared totally oblivious.

Renji, meanwhile, was at the end of his rope. The idea of failure was bad enough, but the knowledge this had been—more or less—his plan from the start made it near unendurable to think he could have been wrong. In frustration, he cried abruptly, "Well, you could always just ask _me_ out!"

Silence.

Yoruichi observed Byakuya carefully. When she glimpsed not the faintest reaction, not even the smallest alteration in the flawlessly sculpted features of the elder Kuchiki, she exploded.

"Oh, will you _wake up_! Half a decade has passed since that foul woman you dragged out of that filthy gutter she lived in kicked the bucket, and it is time you stop dwelling on what is dead and gone! The past is the past, you insufferable, obstinate, irresistibly _sexy_ asshole, so get over it! No one is going to live up to the fuzzy memory of your doomed romance, so stop acting like a damn prude and just _choose someone already_!"

For a long while, nothing happened. Then, slowly, finally, Byakuya raised his head. His stormcloud orbs met with Yoruichi's furious golden ones.

"…What were we talking about again?"

Yoruichi and Renji both fell to the floor, anime-style.

The door to the office slid open, and in walked the last person either Yoruichi or Renji would have ever expected.

"There you are, Kuchiki," Soi Fon said. She sounded almost…cheerful.

"Oh, hello, Soi Fon," Byakuya greeted, suddenly much more animated.

The stunned Lieutenant and former fugitive gaped from their ground-level perspective as Soi Fon crossed the threshold and made her way to the desk. "What are you doing in here on a day like this?" She slipped her arm in his and pulled him to his feet. He did not protest, but allowed her to lead him out. Yoruichi and Renji stared disbelievingly after them.

Byakuya did not depart without farewell. "Oh, Renji. You can finish the paperwork."

_Twenty-four Hours Later…_

"He did _what_? She did _what_? They did _WHA—_"

Hitsugaya Toshiro picked up the hardest object he could find—which was, incidentally, an empty sake bottle—and flung it across the room. It struck his overenthusiastic Lieutenant, Matsumoto Rangiku, right between the eyes. She silenced immediately and collapsed, somewhere between awareness and unconsciousness. Toshiro never looked up from his paperwork.

"Will you _relax_?" he said coldly. "Don't blow a gasket. Is it really _that_ surprising?"

"OF COURSE IT IS!" Rangiku shrieked at the top of her lungs. She leapt up and threw herself over the desk, consequently simultaneously destroying her youthful Captain's innocent eardrums and nearly smothering him with her ample bust.

Toshiro, sputtering and gasping, somehow managed to extricate himself from his subordinate's great chest. "I don't see how," he muttered.

"Who could have seen this coming?" Rangiku exclaimed. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes alight. Toshiro had not seen her this excited since he had brought her a large case of sake to celebrate the beginning of their partnership, a suggestion from Shunsui. In retrospect, he should have known better. If his memory was not mistaken, Shunsui had been quite intoxicated himself when he offered the much younger boy this little piece of advice. Well, _that_ was a lesson he had learned very fast. Two lessons, to be exact. First, never listen to unshaven drunkards. Second, never let Rangiku within ten yards of sake if it can be helped, or at least never be present when the pernicious substance was in the vicinity.

In fact, he had a strong intuition the drink might have something to do with Rangiku's current exaltation.

"_I_ saw this coming," he said in a board voice as he sat back down in his chair, careful to avoid the potentially lethal depths of his Lieutenant's upper body.

"You _did_, Captain?" Rangiku sounded shocked.

"Well…no," Toshiro admitted. "But I mean, really. It's not something to get so worked up over…it's not like they've announced their engagement or anything..." Under his breath, he added, "Not that it would matter if they did…"

"No, but, come _on_! Captain Kuchiki and Captain Soi Fon? Who would have _thought_? It's just so—"

_In the Living World…_

"UNACCEPTABLE!"

Kurosaki Ichigo ducked as another chair was thrown across the room. A splintering noise filled the air as it collided with the wall and shattered.

"Rukia—"

"NO! IT CANNOT BE! I WILL NOT ACCEPT IT!"

A desk soon met the same fate. An instant later, an assortment of classroom implements, such as chalk, books, rulers, and pencils, began flying in all directions. Ichigo and his classmates unfortunate enough to be caught in the tempest took refuge in the corner farthest from the raging Soul Reaper.

"HE CAN'T DO THIS! IT CANNOT BE _HER_!"

"Uh…what's wrong with Rukia?" Orihime questioned timidly as a second desk faced dissolution when it crashed into the blackboard.

"I WILL NOT TOLERATE THIS INJUSTICE!"

"Did you…uh…dump her or something, Ichigo?" Uryuu asked. Something hit the wall above his head and broke apart. He was showered with cloth, sewing needles, and variegated buttons. "Hey! My kit!"

"THIS IS WRONG! _WRONG, I SAY_!"

"Nah," Ichigo said. "If I had, she would have just killed me and been done with it. No, it's Byakuya."

"Byakuya?" Chad repeated. He sluggishly evaded an airborne backpack. "Her brother?"

"SHE IS NOT WORTHY! _NOT WORTHY_!"

"Yep," Ichigo replied. "He found a girlfriend."

"Oh, really?" Orihime said. "Well, shouldn't she be happy about that?"

"It's Soi Fon."

Uryuu blinked. "You mean that crazy ninja chick?"

"Yep, that one."

"Oh…no wonder she's so upset."

Ichigo nodded solemnly.

"NO! NOT HER! HE CANNOT DATE SOMEONE WHO IS HARDLY EVEN TALLER THAN _ME_! SHE'S A MIDGET! A DAMN BLOODTHIRSTY HEARTLESS MIDGET! HOW CAN HE BE SO CRUEL TO ME?" Suddenly, her fury seemed to dissolve; she burst into tears and sank to the floor.

"Well, let us help!" Asano Keigo cried, and jumped to his feet. "We can't just sit back while Rukia—"

He was hushed, however, when a pair of scissors struck inches from his head.

Ichigo pulled him down again. "Uh…maybe we should just…wait here."

"Good idea," Keigo agreed in a tiny, tremulous voice.

"I don't see why she's all worked up," Chad said. "I mean, she just—"

_Somewhere in Soul Society…_

"…can't believe it!"

"I know!" Hisagi Shuhei shook his head in a wordless expression of amazement. "Who would have guessed? Those two,_ together_?"

"Tell me about it," Kira Izuru chuckled.

"I don't really see why it's such a shock," Madarame Ikkaku said indifferently. "Two cold-hearted assholes like them? They were bound to find each other and mate eventually…"

"_Must_ you put it so crudely?" admonished Ayasegawa Yumichika. "I think it is beautiful that they have found love. Romance is unpredictable. Like lightning, it strikes without warning and with power unprecedented. Like the flowers, never before one's eyes, but in secret, it blooms to reveal its peerless beauty. Like the river, it is timeless and everlasting—"

"Like this hangover, you are extremely annoying," Ikkaku mumbled, and rubbed his aching temple. "Seriously, I have to learn to lay off the sake…"

"I don't think it's such a shock, really," Kusajishi Yachiru piped from her place surmounted on Zaraki Kenpachi's broad shoulders. "I always thought they were made for each other!"

Kenpachi looked less pleased. "Does this mean Kuchiki won't be willing to fight me anymore…?"

"I don't think you have to worry about that, Captain," Ikkaku said. "You'll just have his girlfriend to fight, too."

A dusty gleam came to Kenpachi's eyes. "Well, well, that does sound interesting. I should go over there right now and—"

_At the Squad Thirteen Barracks…_

"…congratulate them!"

Before Ukitake could make it to the door, however, he was halted by Ise Nanao and Kotetsu Isane, who both grabbed his arms and pulled him back.

"No, wait, Captain Ukitake!" Isane cried desperately. "Don't do that!"

Ukitake blinked down at the two, astonished by their reactions. "Why?"

Nanao cleared her throat and pushed her glasses up her nose. "It's…probably better if you _don't_ reveal to them the entire Seireitei knows about their relationship. Remember the last time Captain Kuchiki discovered everyone knew about one of his deepest secrets? Renji spent a week in the hospital!"

Isane shuddered. "I remember those injuries…I've never seen anything so…_horrible_!" Her complexion paled; she looked as if she might be sick.

Ukitake still seemed bemused, but inclined his head in assent. "All right, all right, I understand. I guess I'll wait to buy the wedding present and the baby gifts…"

The two Lieutenants sweatdropped.

Unohana Retsu looked up from the patient she had been treating, who had, with her help, drifted off into a convalescent slumber. She smiled. "I think _someone_ should congratulate them. It's lovely they have decided to get together."

"I agree," Kyoraku Shunsui spoke up. He held up a large half-empty bottle. "We should all have a sake party!"

The others did not share his fervor.

"Or…not. I guess it was just—"

_At the Head Captain's Office…_

"—an outrage!"

Yamamoto Shigekuni Genryusai looked up at his obviously riled Lieutenant. "Who blew up the stage?"

Sasakibe Chojiro whirled to glare at the elder Soul Reaper. "Kuchiki and Soi Fon!"

"They blew up the stage?"

Sasakibe blinked. "Wha—? No! They…they…oh, it is too horrible even to say!" He buried his face in his hands and began to wail. Yamamoto only sat there and stared, totally confounded.

"…Are they betraying me, too?" he asked finally. He appeared to contemplate this a moment, and then his eyes widened in horror. "Oh, no, they're not going to take your wigs and fake mustaches, are they?" He tried to imagine his subordinate bald and without his signature refined facial hair, like Madarame Ikkaku, and shuddered.

Sasakibe's noisy lamentations ceased at once, and his fury flared again. "No! And for the last time, I do not wear wigs! Or fake mustaches! My hair is _all _natural."

Yamamoto coughed into his hand. "Yeah, sure, and Ichimaru really _isn't_ Aizen and Tousen's lovechild…"

Sasakibe did not seem to hear. "No, they're not betraying you. It's much worse than that! They…they…they have…_they're together_!" He burst once more into uncontrollable tears.

"You mean…together in the same barracks?" He lowered his voice. "That _would_ be a disaster…"

"No! Worse! I mean, _together _together!"

"Soi Fon joined Squad Six?"

"No!"

"Kuchiki joined Squad…three? Ten? Five? Fifteen?" Yamamoto's brow furrowed. "What Squad is she head of again?"

"Two," Sasakibe supplied dutifully.

"Two?"

"No! Worse!"

"Soi Fon was adopted into the Kuchiki family?"

Sasakibe paused. "I hope not! That would be…creepy. It's worse! Worse than all of that! Worse than Aizen betraying the Soul Society! Worse than Urahara's and Shihoin's disappearance! Worse than that orange-haired brat's invasion! Worse than that time I lost my wig…er…I mean, completely _genuine_ hair! Worse than that time I used the wrong shampoo! Kuchiki and Soi Fon are…_a couple!_"

This announcement was greeted by utter silence. Yamamoto sat at his desk, his expression blank. Sasakibe, his cheeks streaked with tears, gazed intently back at him.

At last, Yamamoto said, "Wait…which ones are Kuchiki and Soi Fon again?"

Sasakibe face-faulted. "Why?" he groaned to himself. "Why, oh, _why_ didn't I go with Aizen? He had the right idea, leaving this stupid damn—"

_Back in the Living World, in Urahara's shop…_

"—wedding! We'll need presents, and guest invitations, and flowers, and a cake—"

"Whoa, whoa," Urahara Kisuke said, and raised a hand to silence his enthusiastic friend. "What's this about a wedding?"

Tsukabishi Tessai danced around to look at the other man. "Haven't you heard? About the Soul Society's newest sensational couple?"

Kisuke raised an eyebrow. "Pretty Boy and Baldie finally came out of the closet and got together?"

Tessai frowned, excitement turned fleetingly to bemusement. Then he chuckled. "What are you talking about, boss? Those two never _were _in the closet. They got together _years _ago. Where have _you_ been the last decade?"

"Here," Kisuke said. "Hiding. Keeping a low profile. Working outside Soul Society law. You know, usual stuff. How the hell was I supposed to know…?" He paused. "Hey, wait a minute. How the hell would _you_ have heard about it? You've been here with me all this time! There's no way…"

Tessai appeared surprised. "Well, the Soul Society News, of course."

"The Soul Society News?" Kisuke repeated blankly. "You still get the Soul Society News?"

"Sure. I ordered a life-long subscription. Didn't you?"

"Uh…no."

"You _didn't_?" Tessai now looked absolutely mortified, as if Kisuke had confessed he never bathed. "Boss, how do you expect to keep up with all the new developments in the Soul Society? This is vital information we're talking about here!"

"Honestly, I really don't give a damn if…" Something occurred suddenly to the former Captain of Squad Twelve. "Hey, hold up. Does that mean the Soul Society has known where we were the entire time?"

Tessai shrugged. "I guess so." This, however, did not seem to bother him. Ignoring Kisuke's stunned, horrified visage, he resumed, "Anyway, I meant the _other _Pretty Boy, not the wannabe but the _real_ Pretty Boy, and Ninja Midget."

Kisuke recovered relatively fast, startled by this revelation. "Byakuya and Soi Fon?"

"Indeed."

"_Together?_"

"So they say."

For a moment, Kisuke did not appear to know how exactly to react to this, whether he should be shocked, disgusted, insulted, elated, or simply neutral. At length, he smiled. "Oh. Well, good for them. I always thought they were perfect for each other." He lowered his voice. "They're certainly enough alike…"

"Yes, that's what I thought," Tessai agreed heartily. "They make such a wonderful couple! I'm sure they'll make each other very happy."

"Yeah, when they're not trying to kill each other…" Kisuke shook his head. "I just hope Unohana is close at hand…every minute of every hour of every day those two are together."

"Oh, she said she would be."

Kisuke blinked. "Oh. Well, in that case…" For several moments, he sat in silent contemplation; Tessai watched him expectantly. Finally, he stood. "I think I had better go make sure Yoruichi is all right…"

_In the Squad Six Barracks, Byakuya's Office…_

Yoruichi was most certainly _not _all right.

She was perched, motionless, on Byakuya's now vacant desk. She stared straight ahead, her gaze rapt, unwavering, but sightless. She seemed to shift between intervals in which she was ready to explode in a whirlwind of violent fury or on the verge of tears.

Renji eyed her warily from the opposite end of the spacious, if near empty, room. Too stunned to do anything but obey the orders he had been left with, he had taken the stacks of unfinished paperwork and fled to what he hoped was a safe distance from the potential lethality of Hurricane Yoruichi. Twice he had begun to speak, to try and say something to console her, but then thought better of it and promptly shut his mouth. It might be safer simply to stay here, huddled against the wall, and keep himself as small and inconspicuous as possible. He did not know if it made him a coward or not, but he was definitely no martyr, and he did not wish to die, of all places, in the Squad Six Captain's private office.

Abruptly, making Renji jump, Yoruichi stood. She still glared fixedly at the door, as if it was to be blamed for this. "How could he?" she demanded apparently no one in particular. Her tone was clear, steady, inflectionless. "How could he chose _her_? She's violent, impulsive, thoughtless, she has no discipline, no _restraint_—"

"So she's just like you, then," Renji murmured. Perhaps lucky for him, however, Yoruichi did not seem aware of his presence any longer. Her voice was rising and had started to tremble, not quite a shout but close.

"And she's so _flat-chested_! How could he possibly go for someone like her instead of someone like me? Doesn't he see she's not right for him? It's not fair! It's nuh-nuh-not…" It broke on the last word, and she burst into huge, miserable, shuddering sobs. She sank back onto the desk, pulled up her legs, buried her face in her knees, and wept. Renji stared, immobilized, unsure what to do or even if he should do anything at all.

Almost in the same instant, the doors slid open. Renji whirled in that direction, half-hopeful he would see Byakuya there, preferably without Soi Fon, but there was only Urahara Kisuke, stripped green hat in hand.

The former Soul Reaper did not appear surprised by what he found. He gave Yoruichi a long, sympathetic look, and then scanned the rest of the room. He saw Renji, and went to join the redhead in his corner.

"How long has she been like this?" he inquired.

"Pretty much all day."

"One second she looks like she might strangle someone, next like she's going to cry her eyes out the way she is now?"

"Yep."

"Sporadic tantrums, screaming at nothing, destroying random objects?"

Renji indicated the pile of rubble which lay where the desk's chair had been. "Yep."

Kisuke sighed. "Well, she's taking it about as well as I expected."

"So you know?" Renji asked. He did not dare speak above a whisper, in case Yoruichi were to notice him and remember the events which had led to this devastating—for Yoruichi, that was—discovery had been his idea in the first place.

"Are you kidding? The whole Soul Society knows."

"Oh." Renji hesitated. "Is Captain Kuchiki aware of that?"

"Yep. Saw him and Soi Fon while I was heading down here. Looks like they're rather enjoying the attention."

"They would."

Kisuke's lips quirked ephemerally.

Without warning, Yoruichi's sobs ceased. Her head snapped up. Her lips were curved in a primal, threatening snarl. She leapt off the desk and landed nimbly on her feet by the entrance. Her golden eyes burned with vengeful resolution.

"This is not over," she vowed. "I will not be defeated again. I _will _have him. Even if it means I have to kill her myself!"

"Hey!" In his alarm, Renji forgot to remain quiet for the sake of his own wellbeing. "You don't have to resort to such—"

Before he could finish, however, Yoruichi was gone. If she had heard him, she paid him no heed.

"This is nothing," Kisuke said. "You should have seen her when we found out he had married that Hisana woman."

"Love hurts," Renji said, a bit faintly.

Kisuke nodded solemnly. "So it does. So it does…"

_Meanwhile, somewhere outside the Seireitei…_

"Kuchiki?"

Byakuya looked up. "What is it?"

Soi Fon gazed down the path which surrounded the lake, her expression dubious, even nervous. "Do you think we should have been a little kinder about it?"

"About what?"

Soi Fon glared briefly at him. "You know what I am talking about." She glanced back again and bit her lip. "Maybe we should have found a better way to break it to Lady Yoruichi."

Byakuya shrugged. "Why? She knows, doesn't she? That was the whole point, right?"

"Yes, but…"

Byakuya waved a dismissive hand. "Relax, Soi. I'm sure Yoruichi is fine." With that, he turned and resumed down the trail.

Soi Fon still appeared uncertain, but after a moment, she sighed and followed.


	3. Arrancar Two: Lesson Learned

_**Tales of the Arrancar: Two **_

_Summary:_ They say curiosity kills the cat, but what does it do for Espada? Tipped off about one of their own, Szayel, Ulquiorra, and Nnoitra decide to investigate. They are about to find out, however, Espada might not have nine lives.

_Main cast: _Ulquiorra, Szayel, Nnoitra, Grimmjow, and a little bit of Aizen at the end.

_Pairings: _Implied one-sided Grimmjow/a certain Lieutenant…

_Overall warnings: _Grimmjow's latent lechery. Come on, are you really surprised?

**Lesson Learned**

"Szayel, are you sure this is a good idea?"

Ulquiorra looked oddly young and vulnerable, huddled close to the pink-haired Espada's side. His eyes, deeper emerald than the finest jewels, aglow with feline brightness, were wide and wary. He gripped Szayel's arm, his every muscle taut in tension. Szayel had only seen him like this once before, when Aizen had flown into a rage over their perceived lack of progress with the Hogyoku. It was an occasion still lurid even in Szayel's mind, although colored in gaudy tones of amusement rather than fear. For Ulquiorra, however, who had what more sentimental beings might call a 'paternal' view of Aizen, it was one of the few memories he retained which induced something akin to despair.

Szayel rolled his amber eyes. "Oh, don't be a wimp, Ulqui. It's not like he could do anything to us, anyway."

"It's not _him_ I'm worried about. If he starts shouting he'll wake the entire palace, and if Orihime finds out I sank to your level—"

So _that _was what this was about. His appearance to Miss Inoue Orihime. Szayel smirked. "Oh, don't worry, my snow-white beauty. I'm sure she'll be just as attracted to your tight little ass."

Ulquiorra seemed genuinely bemused. "My _what_?"

Szayel considered his companion a moment, and then sighed with the attitude of one at last resigned to the hopelessness of their endeavors. "Never mind."

There was a soft tap on the other side of the door behind them. The sound made Ulquiorra start slightly. "Any luck in there?" Nnoitra's whisper, thick with anticipatory excitement, wafted in to them.

"Not yet," Szayel murmured back.

They stood in the darkened room which was the private quarters of their fellow Espada, Grimmjow, staring down at the slumbering Arrancar. Nnoitra was outside to keep a lookout for Aizen, Gin, Kaname, or any others who may cause them trouble. This morning Nelliel had made an offhand remark that Grimmjow talked in his sleep—although how she would be privy to this information, none of them truly wished to know—and so the three of them, driven by perhaps suicidal curiosity, had decided to observe this phenomenon for themselves.

Grimmjow was sprawled out on his tattered mattress, mouth open, a fathomless black hole from which sporadic earth-shattering snores ascended. In such a position, bathed in shadow, the general impression was not one of menace but a harmlessness that was almost…cute.

"Szayel…what if he wakes up?" Ulquiorra asked earnestly.

"Oh, please," the Eighth Espada scoffed. "You could strip him naked, string him up on a pole, set his ass on fire, stick a sword up it along with a couple mini-hollows, pelt him with rocks, buildings, Soul Reapers, Menos Grande, put Pesche and Dondochakka in his bed, _and_ lock him in a room with Ichimaru and Aizen during their 'happy hour,' and he _still_ would not wake up." Indeed, Szayel had some experience with this. He had, in fact, tried something like it a few years prior, but that is another story. Not a very pleasant one, either. The aftermath of which saw a naked, bruised, charred, and very angry Grimmjow limping after a very entertained Szayel, still trying to pry the last struggling lizard-like hollow from his hindquarters. To this day the memory made Szayel feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Aizen had been none too pleased, but all the other Arrancar had been quite as amused.

He doubted, though, Ulquiorra would share their sentiments. He and Grimmjow had a peculiar relationship. When it was a personal confrontation, their mutual abhorrence eclipsed all things, including but not limited to the existence of people and objects in the vicinity, the frailty of said people and objects, the destructive capacity of their own powers, and the wrath of Aizen they would face after they had rendered Las Noches and much of Hueco Mundo a pile of rubble but miraculously managed to do little damage to each other. When one was threatened by an outside source, however, the other could be invariably counted upon to come to his aid. Perhaps it was a simple case of 'predator-protects-prey.' Szayel had attempted an investigation, but his only result was running to Orihime to heal an assortment of nasty, potentially fatal wounds.

As if to confirm these contemplations, Ulquiorra said, "I don't think he'll like this."

"Oh, come on, Ulqui. Since when have you ever cared what _he_ would like?"

The door cracked open and Nnoitra peeked in. "Will both of you shut up?" he hissed. "How do you expect to hear anything good when you keep bickering?"

"We're not _bickering_," Szayel said, and lazily flicked an errant strand of silken magenta hair from his brow.

"Whatever! Just shut your oversized trap, you four-eyed science freak!"

Szayel was about to riposte, perhaps remark upon the paradox of Nnoitra calling _him _a freak, but suddenly Ulquiorra pressed a hand over his mouth to silence him. Szayel regarded him inquiringly, and he jerked his head toward the bed.

Grimmjow, blissfully ignorant that he was being watched, turned over and muttered something unintelligible. Ulquiorra and Szayel exchanged speculative glances. Szayel shrugged, and upon unspoken consent the two leaned nearer. Outside, Nnoitra had the side of his face rammed against the small opening in the door, his ears strained to hear every word.

Grimmjow muttered again, and this time they clearly made out, "Matsumodo…"

Ulquiorra blinked. Szayel raised an eyebrow.

"Matsumodo…"

Szayel appeared vaguely confused, but recognition had begun to dawn in Ulquiorra's expression.

"Oh," he whispered. "Oh. _Oh_."

Szayel looked at him questioningly.

"Orihime told me about a Matsumodo," he explained. "A Lieutenant of the Soul Society. Squad Ten, I think. Apparently, she has a very…uh…_ample_ bust."

Szayel pulled the other Arrancar's hand away. "More ample than Orihime's?"

"They make Orihime's look _small_."

Szayel gaped, frankly astonished, and then delighted. "Well, well…how interesting…"

They returned their attention to the sleeping Grimmjow.

"Do that again…one more time, baby…" He was almost _purring_ in a low, seductive voice none of them had ever heard him use before.

Szayel blinked, and Ulquiorra became very pale…well, paler than usual, anyway.

"Oh," he said faintly. He looked shocked. Szayel, meanwhile, was smirking. Nnoitra shifted, equally as disquieted as Ulquiorra.

"Yeah, right there, baby…that's the spot…" Grimmjow turned over...and did a very disturbing thing to his pillow.

"What the hell is he _dreaming _about?" Nnoitra whispered. Ulquiorra was paralyzed. Szayel had started to snicker, and muffled the sounds with his sleeve.

"Don't stop, my vanilla muffin…keep going, just like that…oh, yeah, that's the way…"

"Vanilla…muffin…?" Szayel could barely contain his laughter.

"Oh." Ulquiorra seemed incapable of further speech. "Oh." Nnoitra, who had never heard such things in his life until now, was stunned into total silence.

"Oh, yeah, bring out the sugar…you know what to do…"

This was too much. Szayel burst into wild gales of mirth and fell back on his behind, kicking frantically at the air. Ulquiorra was motionless, beyond shock, well into the vast wasteland of permanent trauma. Nnoitra sailed the same ship.

Grimmjow jerked awake. He stared uncomprehendingly at the scene in front of him: one Espada mute and gazing blankly across the room, totally disconnected from the world; another rolling around on the floor, dangerously close to a hernia from his helpless guffaws. Then he recalled the dream he had been so rudely ripped from, and he understood.

He went through three phases: he paled, his eyes widened, then his face turned an ugly shade of red and he screamed at the top of his lungs.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING IN MY ROOM?"

"You…" Ulquiorra did not appear fully aware of his surroundings. "Dreaming…Matsumodo…sugar…muffins…"

Szayel shrieked laughter.

Grimmjow roared and fired his Cero directly at them. "GET THE HELL OUT BEFORE I TURN YOU BOTH TO ASHES!"

Szayel, still in hysterics, barely evaded and pulled Ulquiorra out of the way in time. They escaped out to where Nnoitra was just as Grimmjow released a series of deadly Bala.

Once they were a safe distance from the raging Grimmjow—about halfway on the other end of Las Noches—Szayel let go of Ulquiorra and collapsed against the wall, trying to catch his breath. Ulquiorra fell limply to the ground. Nnoitra swayed drunkenly where Szayel had set him down, somewhere in the nexus between consciousness and unconsciousness.

Aizen stepped out from the shadows, arms crossed, brow high. "So, my dear Espada, what did we learn today?"

"Grimmjow is a pervert," Nnoitra said in a weak voice quite unlike him. "And he likes sugar…"

"I should never have let him go to the Living World," Ulquiorra whispered.

"Listening to Grimmjow talk in his sleep serves to collect _wonderful _blackmail," Szayel said, and with that he hurried away, still laughing like a madman.

**Yes, Grimmjow is secretly attracted to Rangiku. Please, as if the entire Soul Society is not the same. XD Anyway, this will undoubtedly be my shortest one. Please review! It makes me smile, like Szayel when he is torturing poor Grimmjow…;) **


	4. Soul Reapers Two: Party Favors

_**Tales of the Soul Reapers: Two**_

_Summary: _Yachiru plans a party for Kenpachi and Byakuya, and several of her unsuspecting fellows are caught up in the affair. All seems to go well…until the two Captains actually show up.

_Main cast: _Kenpachi, Byakuya, Yachiru, Renji, Rukia, Izuru, Shuhei, Ichigo, Kisuke, Yoruichi.

_Pairings: _One-sided Byakuya/Yoruichi, and hints of Byakuya/Kenpachi, if you squint real hard.

_Warnings: _Sake, cherry pie…and Yachiru. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

**Party Favors**

"Do these robes clash with my eyes too much?"

Madarame Ikkaku blinked, startled out of his torpor. "Yeah, sure, whatever you say, Yumichika," he said absently, and resumed his indifferent observation of the ceiling.

Ayasegawa Yumichika cast him an uncertain glance. He sighed dramatically and abandoned his inspection of himself in the mirror hung on the scratched and begrimed wall. It was his personal possession, of course; when he had been told he was expected to spend three days in the Captain's quarters without one, he had immediately arranged for the relocation of his own. "This endeavor is hardly beautiful enough for my effort," he complained for the seventh time in as many minutes, and moodily flicked a strand of hair from his face.

Ikkaku's eye twitched in annoyance. "Will you stop _whining_, Yumichika? It's not going to get us out of this any sooner." Bored to the point of madness, the two had decided to look through the heaps of junk scattered about the office, something they had always wished to do but never quite dared attempt when Zaraki Kenpachi was within proximity to sense their intrusion…say, a hundred miles. As far as they knew, however, their scarred and scary superior was now causing all manner of lethal ruckus in another world, and they assumed they were safe. Not that they did not jump with every tiny hint of movement or sound they perceived, or _thought_ they perceived. While rummaging through the Captain's things, they had discovered a cache of daggers, dulled and dusty from disuse but otherwise in reasonably good condition. The crate in which they had been stored now lay open beside Ikkaku's supine form, and he periodically removed one blade and flung it casually at the ceiling until they created a potentially deadly circle of gleaming blades above his head. He took out the last knife now and tossed it upward. It struck in the center of the ring and stuck there, quivering ominously.

Yumichika looked slightly put out. He returned his attention to the glass. "How did we let Lieutenant Kusajishi talk us into this?"

An image flashed before both of them of a diminutive pink-haired girl rushing at them, crying, "Baldie! Girly-man! Kenny and Cookie are coming home! Kenny and Cookie are coming home! We're going to have a party for them! A surprise party! A _big_ surprise party, with cake and cookies and candy and ice cream and balloons! Lots and lots of balloons! Come one, come on!"

"She can be very convincing," Ikkaku said.

Yumichika nodded solemnly.

He brooded for a moment, and then asked suddenly, "Who's 'Cookie,' anyway? I've never heard her call anyone that before…"

Ikkaku considered, and then shrugged. "Must be Kuchiki."

Yumichika raised a delicate eyebrow. "Kuchiki _Rukia_?"

"Nah, the other one. Pretty boy."

"Moneybags with the hair curlers?"

"That's the one."

_Somewhere far away…_

A dark-haired Soul Reaper coughed lightly into his hand. The tall, spiky-haired man stretched out on the other side of the campfire glanced up. "You OK there, Kuchiki?"

"Yes," Byakuya said dismissively. "Must be coming down with something…"

Kenpachi grinned mischievously. "Or someone's thinking 'bout you. Maybe that midget ninja woman you're always hanging around with…" Grotesquely, he winked.

Byakuya huffed and turned away without a word, but there was a faint tinge of crimson in his cheeks.

_Back in the Squad Eleven barracks…_

Yumichika made a face. "Why would she want to throw a surprise party for _Kuchiki_? What's he done?"

"Well, he accompanied Captain Zaraki, didn't he?"

"He did?" Yumichika inquired, taken aback. "But I thought it was only a mission to neutralize a few troublesome Hollows? Surely they don't need to send _two _Captains…"

"Much as I hate to admit it, Pretty Boy isn't just a pretty face. He has some skill. He and the Captain have had this whole rivalry thing going on, trying to see who's strongest…so when the Kuchiki brat was sent off on the mission, Captain Zaraki requested to go, too."

Yumichika sighed. "So unruly."

"Not Kuchiki," Ikkaku said sourly, not without a touch of resentment. "His every _breath_ is so elegant it makes you wanna hit 'im over the head with something hard and heavy…like a boulder. Or those hair curlers."

"They're called_ kenseikan_, you hairless oaf, and I happen to think Captain Kuchiki pulls them off quite well."

Ikkaku and Yumichika turned as the door to the Captain's quarters slid open with a pronounced _bang!_ Abarai Renji, Kira Izuru, Hisagi Shuhei, Kurosaki Ichigo, and Kuchiki Rukia filed in, followed by none other than Kusajishi Yachiru. The third and fifth seat of Squad Eleven both blinked at the sight of their comrades. Each was laden with a mountain of assorted sweets, enough to make the entire population of the Soul Society, the Living World, and even Hueco Mundo sugar-high. These included but were not limited to all kinds of cakes, cookies, candies, and pies; containers that overflowed with various toppings to indulge the desires of the most gluttonous sweet tooth; and multicolored drinks for which neither Ikkaku nor Yumichika had names. The Soul Reapers who held these things appeared to be having quite some difficulty; Rukia in particular looked ready to collapse and be crushed beneath the substantial weight of her burdens.

Ikkaku and Yumichika gaped unbelievingly.

"What the…"

"…_hell _is going on here?"

"Baldie! Freaky Eyebrows!" Yachiru bounded at them—nearly knocking Renji and Izuru off their feet in the process—and leapt onto Yumichika's shoulders like an overgrown, pink-headed grasshopper. "Look what we got! Isn't it _great_?"

"Uh…" Ikkaku and Yumichika were quite literally speechless.

"Hey," Renji said abruptly. "I thought _I _was 'Freaky Eyebrows'?"

"Silly," Yachiru giggled. "Freaky Eyebrows' eyebrows are way freakier than yours! So you're Freaky Tattoos now!"

"_That's_ not confusing at all," Renji muttered.

Yumichika looked affronted. "Hey! My eyebrows are elegant and beautiful! They are most certainly _not_ 'freaky'!"

"'Freaky' doesn't even begin to describe it," Ikkaku remarked under his breath. Yumichika did not seem to hear.

"You can't just take my name!" Renji snapped at Yumichika, stamping his foot once in righteous indignation. "That's thievery! You're a thief!" He tried to point accusingly at the other man, but overestimated his own ability to continue to support the pile of treats he held with one arm. Consequently, when he removed his hand, the weight became too much and an avalanche of cakes and pies came crashing down on top of him.

"Renji!" Rukia cried.

Renji poked his head out from beneath the heap, his face smeared with chocolate and vanilla frosting and a thick red substance that might have been cherries. Izuru, Shuhei, and Ichigo burst into wild gales of mirth which almost caused them to drop their own burdens.

"Silly Freaky Tattoos!" Yachiru admonished, although she laughed right along with the older Soul Reapers. "Those were for Cookie to eat, not for you to wear!"

Renji scowled. "You think I _want_ to—hey, wait, for _what_?"

"For Cookie, of course!"

Renji looked utterly confounded. Ikkaku dutifully explained. "Kuchiki. She's talking about your Captain."

Renji blinked. "Oh. Should have guessed that." With some difficulty, he extricated himself from the cake-pie mush and tried to wipe it all off. All he managed to do was spread the stuff even more, however, and after several tense seconds of fruitless struggle he at last conceded. He picked a final piece of chocolate cake off his cheek, and considered it in his palm. He sniffed it, and then cautiously placed it in his mouth. His expression was contemplative and a bit wary as he chewed, but when he swallowed, his visage seemed to light up. "Wow! That's good!"

"Really?" Shuhei inquired. Curious, he walked up to Renji, wiped off some frosting from the auburn-haired Lieutenant's sleeve with his finger, and tasted. His eyes brightened immediately. "Whoa, yeah! That's real good!"

The two commenced to feast off Renji's robes in earnest, but their moment of indulgence did not last. Yachiru promptly jumped up and smacked them both with the hilt of her sword. Her large, rounded brown eyes were narrowed in anger, and the energy emitted from her materialized over her head as a malign pink demon-face. "Who said you could eat that?" she demanded, her high, normally jovial voice deepened and made almost frightening in her fury. "That was for Cookie and Cookie only! Get your filthy paws off it!" She hit them a couple more times, until they were both sprawled out on the floor.

"Sorry," Renji and Shuhei muttered in unison.

With a look of satisfied triumph, Yachiru turned away and slipped her sheathed blade back into her belt. At once, she resumed her characteristic effervescent demeanor. "Well! That's too bad. Guess Cookie won't have as many as he was supposed to. I'm sure Kenny will share with him."

Humming, she crossed the room to where Yumichika's mirror hung on the wall. She studied the ornate oval looking-glass briefly, then pulled it down with a single casual tug and shoved it at its owner. Yumichika stumbled, surprised. "Lieutenant?"

Yachiru waved at him to indicate for him to be quiet. Obediently, he and Ikkaku observed in bemused silence as the youthful Soul Reaper focused her attention on the wall and tapped the wood several times in a seemingly random pattern. Yumichika and Ikkaku noticed the strange hollow sound it made. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, suddenly, Yumichika let out a startled gasp and Ikkaku gaped as a section of the wall detached from the surrounding foundation. Yachiru appeared unsurprised. She pulled the loosened boards aside to reveal a large, rectangular hidden compartment. From here she removed three sizable tables, which she hoisted over her shoulders and balanced on her head as if they weighed no more than a feather. She carried them to the opposite end of the room and placed them down side by side.

Yumichika stared into the opening in the wall. "Uh…was that always there?"

Ikkaku shook his head. "I'm beginning to learn, with Captain Zaraki,_ anything _is possible."

"There we go!" Yachiru said brightly. "OK, all of you not stupid enough to trip over yourself and drop your goodies—"

"Hey!" Renji cried. "Are you calling me stupid, you freak-faced little brat?"

"—put them all over here!"

"I think that's an affirmative, Freaky Tattoos," Shuhei sniggered.

"Why, you…" Renji yanked his sleeve, from which Shuhei had once more begun eating chocolate frosting, out of the other man's grasp. He glared at Yachiru. "Why the hell do we need all these stupid treats, anyway? What is all this crap _for_?"

"Yes," Izuru piped up. "Why did you have me make all this?"

Shuhei looked startled. "You made all this, Izuru?"

Izuru grinned, not without a touch of pride. "Yep! You wouldn't believe how long it took…and I think I'll have these scars forever…" He solemnly held up his hands to brandish the bandages still wrapped around them.

"Seriously?" Shuhei said, fascinated. "You really did all this?"

"Seriously."

"Well," Yachiru said, "for Kenny's and Cookie's party, of course!"

"Party?" Renji repeated inquiringly.

"Duh!" Yachiru sighed and turned to Ikkaku. "Baldie! You explain."

It seemed Ikkaku would protest to this derogatory epithet, but thought better of it and instead only did as he had been told. "Well, since Captain Zaraki and Captain Cookie…er…Kuchiki, I mean, were gone for so long, Lieutenant Kusajishi decided it would be proper for us to throw them a welcome-home party."

"No way!" Shuhei said, incredulous.

"Way," Izuru replied confidently.

Ichigo glanced up as he gratefully set down his load of treats on the table nearest the entrance. "Wait, Kenpachi and Byakuya are _together_?"

Renji jumped a little, his cheeks faintly flushed. "What? No, of course not! Captain Kuchiki's Zanpakutou definitely does not scatter that way!" He lowered his voice until it was near inaudible. "Or at least, it shouldn't, with all the times he's rejected me…"

Ichigo blinked. "Huh? No, I mean, they're _working_ together?"

"Yeah," Ikkaku said. "They went out to take care of some Hollows in the Living World."

"The Living World? You mean, in my town? Kenpachi and Byakuya were in my town? Around my family? Together? Unsupervised? For_ days_?" He looked absolutely horrified.

"Weeks, actually," Rukia said. Ichigo paled. "The whole time you've been hanging around here. Although why they've been so long when it should have taken them about three minutes to locate and dispose of every one of those Hollows…" She trailed off, a hint of concern in her expression.

"Get out of here!" Shuhei cried.

"I'm serious," Izuru insisted.

Ichigo groaned. "My town, not to mention my home, is in ruins…"

Rukia appeared offended. "Oh, come on, Ichigo, don't you have more faith in my brother than that? He'd never let that beast...er…the most honorable Captain Zaraki go on a rampage!"

"Actually, I think he's more worried about both of them going on a rampage," Ikkaku said.

Rukia rounded on him. "What's that supposed to mean? My brother isn't like that! He's certainly nothing like _your _wild animal of a Captain!"

"Obviously," Renji muttered, "you haven't seen him when he really gets into a battle. Or when someone mentions cats…or the color purple…or ninjas…or pimps…or fishing hats…"

_Across the Seireitei…_

Byakuya sneezed again, with such force he was nearly thrown off his feet. He staggered alarmingly, but performed a graceful sidestep like a figurant in the last motions of his dance and managed to maintain his balance. A few passersby glanced his way. Kenpachi did not fail to note most of them were female. He could almost see why. His slightly tousled hair, askew scarf, and faintly pained expression gave Byakuya a youthful, vulnerable appearance which contradicted his usual stoic demeanor and was oddly endearing to him.

"You really caught something nasty," Kenpachi observed, unable to fully suppress a hint of amusement.

With a quick, furtive swipe of his hand, Byakuya wiped his nose. "I told you," he said dejectedly. "It's because we spent so much time in that vile wor-or-or-_CHOO!_" A bolt of blinding crimson light ejected suddenly from his hand and struck a nearby building, blasting an enormous hole into its front. The explosion shattered the low, pleasant drone of conversation in the streets. An instant of stunned silence followed, and then shrill screams pierced the cool air. A second later, they found themselves in the center of a panicked stampede. Kenpachi reacted instinctively, without thought. He wrapped an arm around Byakuya and half-led, half-carried him out of the chaos, heedless of the younger man's startled protests.

"You should stay inside when you're sick," Kenpachi remarked once the pandemonium had faded into the distance.

Byakuya glared coldly at him. "You can let me go now."

"Huh? Oh, right." Kenpachi released him, and Byakuya at once moved out of his reach. Kenpachi raised an eyebrow, unoffended but a little bemused by the dark-haired Soul Reaper's behavior. "You'd think _I_ was the one with the disease," he muttered under his breath. Byakuya did not appear to hear.

"I am _never_ going back there," he declared, rubbing his temple. A dull ache had begun there. "I don't care what Yamamoto says. That place can't do any good for a Soul Reaper."

"Your sister lived there for weeks," Kenpachi reminded him.

Byakuya cast him a heated look. Kenpachi shrugged. "It was your fault, anyway," he said pointedly. "You were the one who chased me around the entire town in the rain…"

"Well, if _you_ hadn't mentioned purple cats and pimped fishing hats…"

Kenpachi rolled his eyes. He took a quick appraisal of their surroundings. They were on a quieter, almost empty dirt road. He recognized it; it was one he often used to travel to his squad building undisturbed. "We're closest to my barracks. You can stay there for a while, if you want." He glanced toward the skies; darkness approached. "At least for the night."

Byakuya appeared reluctant to resign himself to such lowly—and possibly unsanitary—lodgings, but he had started to feel a trifle weak and light-headed, and he thought it would be best if he rested a while before he attempted to make the journey to his manor, which was a considerable ways from here. "All right." He paused. "I hope you have some food. I could really go for a pie right about now…"

Kenpachi grinned. "Looks like you and me finally agree on something, Kuchiki."

Byakuya did not seem to share his enthusiasm.

_In the barracks…_

"You're not _that_ good," Shuhei said disbelievingly.

"Oh, yes, I am," Izuru replied, with the slightest trace of arrogance. As evidence, he went to the nearest table and selected a pie which looked particularly delicious. He offered it to Shuhei. "Go on, try it. You'll see."

By the entrance to the room, Rukia whirled to face Renji. "What are you trying to say, Abarai?" she demanded viciously.

"Hey, hey," Renji said, in a tone which would have been pacifying had he not been cowering under his childhood friend's burning gaze. "I'm just saying I know Captain Kuchiki's anger. I've seen it enough times…"

Shuhei cut a small piece of the pie and promptly shoved it into his mouth. "You seriously made this?" he questioned again around a mouthful of cherries and crust. Crumbs flew from his lips and splattered Izuru, but the blond Lieutenant did not appear to mind, or even to notice.

"Yes, I did."

"Maybe if you kept your paws off his sister," Yumichika murmured. Ikkaku sniggered.

Rukia and Renji both turned to them. "_What_ did you say?"

"Nothing, nothing," Yumichika said airily. Ikkaku smirked.

"No!" Shuhei persisted in his denial, unable to accept this incredible new development.

"Yeah!"

"_Damn_."

"Tell me about it."

Shuhei dropped his voice to an excited conspirator's whisper. "What's your secret?"

Izuru grinned mysteriously and motioned for Shuhei to come closer. Shuhei leaned in, eyes wide in anticipation.

Rukia had decided she did not care if the Soul Society _did _execute her this time; she intended to have _all _their heads. Before she could act upon this murderous impulse, however, there was a loud pop, a bang, a crash, and, quite suddenly, the gathered Reapers found themselves rained down upon by thousands of minute colorful strips of paper.

Yachiru cheered. "Yay! Confetti!"

Renji, Rukia, Shuhei, Izuru, Yumichika, and Ikkaku responded with much less enthusiasm. Almost in unison, they reached instinctively for their swords, only to find they were weaponless. None of them had thought it necessary to be armed.

As it turned out, they need not have worried. The source of the sounds and the confetti soon became clear.

"So, shall we get this party started?"

Urahara Kisuke and Shihoin Yoruichi stood in the center of the office. Kisuke's signature hat was perched securely on his head, the brim pulled down to shadow his eyes, lips curled in a devious smile. Yoruichi, half-concealed behind him, wore an identical expression.

For a moment, there was silence. At last, Renji, who had been nearly buried under innumerable pink and blue and yellow streamers, sputtered, "Wha—? How—? Where the hell did _you_ two come from?"

"An interesting question," Kisuke mused. "So many answers I could give! If you mean 'where did we come from,' as in, where we were before we entered the Soul Society, we were of course in the place we call the Living World. If you mean, where did we come from as in when we were _born_—"

"How did you get _in_ here?" Yumichika interrupted. He was not so much shocked as affronted by the ostentation of their entrance. He found it rather un-beautiful.

"Through the secret passage," Yoruichi replied simply.

"The secret passage," Yumichika echoed blankly.

"_What_ secret passage?" Ikkaku inquired. He thought he had had quite enough of all these surprises.

Yachiru bounded over to Kisuke and Yoruichi. They stepped aside, and she kicked at the floor where they had been. A trapdoor, all but invisible in the scratched and dusty wood, popped open to reveal a square of darkness large enough for a fairly thin man to squeeze through.

"I installed two of these," Yachiru told her astonished onlookers. "This one leads outside the Seireitei. The other goes right into Cookie's house!"

"Cook…you mean, my brother?" Rukia said. "Our manor?"

"Yep!"

"Why would you want to go _there_?" Ikkaku sounded as if he could not fathom why _anyone _would desire to enter such a place.

"So I can visit Cookie anytime I want!" She giggled. "Kenny can be such a grump sometimes, but Cookie likes when I come see him, and he always has cookies!"

"Cookies?" Renji said incredulously. "Why would Captain Cook…er, Kuchiki have…?" His eyes widened. "You don't mean…he gives the cookie I make him to _you_!"

"Sure does!"

"You make him _cookies_?" Shuhei and Izuru snickered together behind their hands, but Renji, too lost in his despair, took no notice of them.

"I can't…why would he...how could he…he said he _liked _my cookies!"

"Obviously, he lied," Ikkaku said. Renji looked as though he might weep.

Yachiru walked up to him and patted his thigh—as high as she could reach—sympathetically. "It's OK, Freaky Tattoos. _I _like your cookies."

"Thanks, Yachiru," Renji said dully. Yachiru hugged him.

"I made him cookies once," Yoruichi said reminiscently. "He threw them in my face."

"Probably because they were all shaped like hearts and said 'Be Mine' and 'Do Me,'" Kisuke pointed out.

Yoruichi glared at him, indignant. "For your information, you incorrigible lecher, they said 'Be Mine' and '_Love_ Me.' Really, what kind of woman do you think I am?"

"You definitely do not want me to answer that," Kisuke mumbled.

Yoruichi chose to disregard the comment. "Besides, it _was_ Valentine's Day, so he shouldn't have been so surprised…"

"Vale-_what_?" Ikkaku inquired.

"Valentine's Day," Yumichika promptly explained. "It's a holiday in the Living World when humans give chocolates, flowers, and other gifts to their beloveds. It's actually quite a beautiful celebration. I like to go to the Living World every year just so I can watch…"

Ikkaku stared uncomprehendingly at him. "Holi-what?"

He never received clarification; Yumichika was too engaged in a dull, drawn-out narrative about a particularly adventurous Valentine's Day he had experienced to notice his companion obviously did not understand a word he was saying.

Still fuming, Rukia whirled to confront the two unexpected newcomers. "What exactly are you _doing_ here, anyway? Aren't you supposed to be in the Living World?"

"Well," Kisuke said blithely, "when we heard there was a party, we just _had_ to join!"

"I can believe that with _you_, Urahara, but why did you tag along, Yoruichi?"

"Oh, you know, just for something to do," Yoruichi said with unconvincing indifference. She turned away in a vain attempt to conceal the devilish gleam which sparked in her eye and proclaimed, in what she must have believed to be an inaudible whisper which was very audible, "This is the perfect opportunity! This time, I will make Kuchiki Byakuya mine, all mine…" She uttered a disturbingly sinister cackle.

Renji, who appeared to have recovered from this most recent blow to his self-esteem, raised a skeptical eyebrow at the elder woman. "Didn't you try that already? Wasn't it that time you tried to get him to take a moonlit stroll with you and he ended up pushing you into the river…?"

Yoruichi faltered, but only for an instant. "This is Plan B."

"You tried that already, too, when you offered to fix his haori for him and stitched in the words 'Property of Yoruichi' on the back. He blasted it to ashes with a Shakkaho before you even had a chance to try and give it back to him, nearly taking your head off with it…"

Yoruichi cleared her throat. "Plan C, then."

"Taken. You sent him an anonymous love letter to try and lure him out to a secluded area, but he figured out it was you and set up a trap where you were supposed to meet. As I recall, you couldn't sit down for a week…"

"So _that's_ why he wanted to borrow one of my spare canes…" Kisuke mused.

Yoruichi refused to surrender so easily. "Plan D!"

"Nope. That was when he set the dogs on you…"

"Plan E?"

"Sorry. You tried to ambush him in his room and nearly got sliced to pieces by a million tiny blades…"

"Wow," Shuhei remarked. "Talk about hopeless. I don't even think you've hit on Momo that many times, Izuru."

"Well…" Izuru coughed and looked the other way.

Yachiru hoisted herself up onto the table between them. "He's on Plan Z-458," she informed the Ninth Squad Lieutenant.

"Hey!" Izuru snapped. "How do you know that?" Shuhei seemed shocked for a moment, and then he burst into uncontrollable guffaws.

"Plan Z-679!" Yoruichi cried, not a little desperately.

Renji shook his head. "Nope. That was the incident with the shuriken, and the monkey…"

Yoruichi's shoulders slumped in defeat. Kisuke patted her back consolingly.

The former Soul Reaper, however, soon perked up again. She drew herself up and declared with dignity, "Nonetheless, I will not give in. Failure is not an option! One of these days, I _will_ have him, and then Soi Fon can kiss my fine furry ass!"

"I don't want to know," Rukia muttered.

"She's hopeless," Ikkaku said. Yumichika nodded his assent.

Meanwhile, Ichigo sulked alone in the corner, overcome by grief. "My home," he moaned. "My town, my family…all doomed. Doomed…"

"So," Kisuke piped up. "Who brought the sake?"

_An hour later…_

"We can go to the office, if you want," Kenpachi offered as he and Byakuya ascended the small flight of steps which led to the entrance to the Squad Eleven barracks.

Byakuya halted, one foot on the last riser. He regarded his larger companion, dark grey eyes narrowed infinitesimally in suspicion. "Why?"

Kenpachi glanced back at him. "If you don't want to, you don't have to," he said apathetically. "Do what you want. You always do. But I have to check the office. That's where I left Yachiru. I should make sure she is still there."

"What if she's not?"

"Then we should probably get Unohana."

Byakuya raised an eyebrow, but said no more. Kenpachi started down the veranda, and Byakuya followed, though he did not go without caution. He had had too much experience with the insanely blithe youth who served as the Lieutenant of this most dangerous of the Thirteen Squads _not _to be a little wary.

The two entered a doorway at the eastern section of the building and crossed a wide, barren hall. A second door was at the end, and they were halfway to it when Byakuya sensed something peculiar beyond. Kusajishi Yachiru was indeed within, but she was accompanied by several other familiar spiritual pressures. Byakuya identified Rukia, Renji, Yoruichi, Urahara Kisuke, and Kurosaki Ichigo. Renji's presence was not unusual—he often visited his former squad—but Byakuya did not see why the rest of them would be here.

He stopped. "Uh, Zaraki…"

It was too late. Kenpachi's sensory abilities were nigh nonexistent, so he was unaware of anything out of place. He looked around questioningly as he slid open the wooden doors. "What is it now, Kuchiki?"

Byakuya pointed. Kenpachi turned…and his jaw dropped.

"What the—?"

Byakuya did not know exactly what he had expected, but it was not what they found. The first thing he noticed was that the entire floor of the office was covered with bottles. There appeared to be thousands of them; empty sake bottles, he observed. Some still dripped the pernicious substance they had once contained. Even the desk was buried.

The next oddity was what looked like innumerable strips of colored paper, strewn about the whole room. Byakuya, who had never been involved in what might have been called a 'traditional' party of any kind, did not recognize them for what they were, but Kenpachi, who had to face the repercussions whenever Yachiru was allowed into—or found a way to sneak into—the Living World, did. His office had been decorated in confetti.

To add to the strangeness of the scene, a series of tables had been set up on the far side of the room. They were littered with crumpled tin foil trays and plates, and smeared with thick chunks of gunk of variegated hues Byakuya really did not wish to know the origins of. Crumbs, candy wrappers, and other pieces of uneaten food had managed to find their way all over as well.

In Kenpachi's absence, several Soul Reapers had gathered in the spacious but mostly unfurnished quarters. Renji, Ichigo, Kira Izuru, and Hisagi Shuhei were congregated by the tables, seated in a sort of haphazard circle. They were talking very loudly, but none of it sounded intelligible to Byakuya. In the middle of them, like some strange idol, was a mountain of used bottles. Renji's hair was loose, and Ichigo, uncharacteristically, was grinning from ear to ear. What Byakuya found most disturbing, however, was the fact Izuru and Shuhei wore nothing but loincloths.

Ayasegawa Yumichika and Madarame Ikkaku sat together by the desk, arms slung over each other's shoulders. Neither of them looked more than semi-conscious. Yumichika's mouth was open, and a thin stream of drool dribbled down his chin. Ikkaku, peculiarly, wore the same slim feathers Yumichika had attached to his eyebrows.

Yoruichi, Kisuke, and Rukia were by the wall opposite the door. Yoruichi was weeping uncontrollably. Kisuke, his hat askew, and Rukia patted her back clumsily, trying to comfort her. She wailed out something every few seconds or so, but Byakuya could not make out what it was, if it had any coherent translation at all.

"Yes, I would have to say Yachiru is here," Byakuya remarked. Kenpachi merely stared, quite speechless.

Suddenly, Izuru stood, knocking over a section of the mound of sake containers. They clattered to the floor, and the rest teetered dangerously, but did not fall. Izuru was no steadier. He swayed so much it was a wonder he managed to remain on his feet, and when he spoke, his speech was slurred, almost indecipherable. "Dude…my hair is pointing _north_!"

"Dude," Shuhei hiccupped. "Dude, no way."

"Dude…totally. Look at it!" He gestured wildly in the general direction of his bangs.

"It's like a compass, man," Ichigo said, and his voice too was thick with obvious intoxication. "It always points nort…morth…noth...east, man…"

Izuru giggled. "Nuh-uh, man, not _east_. I said it points _north_."

"What—" he hiccupped, "—_ever_, man."

"Dude," Shuhei said. "That is, like…so awesome, dude…"

"Dude," Izuru agreed.

Renji stared at Shuhei. "Dude…Shuhei…"

"Yeah, dude?"

"You have a _face_!"

Shuhei reached up and practically slapped himself. His eyes widened. They were distinctly bloodshot. "I totally do, dude!"

"Awesome," Izuru said.

"Yeah!" Ichigo exclaimed.

"Dude," Renji said.

"Dude," Shuhei echoed.

Izuru turned to Shuhei and began to poke him slowly and weakly in the forearm. "Hey, Shei…Shuee…Shu…Shu…Suzie…" He realized what he had said and broke out into frantic, little-girl giggles again. "I called you Suzie…but that's not…your…_name_…" He tried to poke Shuhei once more, but finally lost his precarious balance and ended up flat on his face.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, Ikkaku and Yumichika hiccupped back and forth in near perfect rhythm. Ikkaku spoke, and like the four younger Soul Reapers, his words were slurred to the point of incomprehensible. "Hey, Yumichika."

"Yeah, Ikkaku?"

"Am I pretty now?"

"Pretty like a pony," Yumichika assured him.

"I feel pretty," Ikkaku said, and made a clumsy motion as though to smooth out the feathers on his eyebrow. He only succeeded in stabbing himself in the eye. A drunken howl, unnoticed by the others, rang throughout the room.

"It's OK, Yoruichi," Kisuke said soothingly to the hysterical dark-skinned woman. It seemed he, too, had been responsible for a number of the empty bottles lying about. "You'll find someone else…someone better…"

"Yeah," Rukia said. "Yeah, someone better…I did…"

Yoruichi's sobs increased.

As he gazed around in horror, Byakuya glimpsed a flash of pink. Suddenly Yachiru was there, comfortably enthroned on Kenpachi's shoulder. "You're finally here!"

Kenpachi at last recovered himself and glared at his Lieutenant. "What the hell _happened_ here?" he demanded.

Yachiru shrugged. "You don't have to shout, Kenny," she said reprovingly. "We were just having a party for you guys."

"A party?" Byakuya inquired.

Yachiru shifted her gaze to him, and her countenance lit up. "Cookie!" She leapt from Kenpachi onto his back. "Of course! Since you were gone so long, I thought we should throw a welcome-home party for when you got back!"

"So…how did _this _happen?" Kenpachi gestured around the disaster area before them.

Yachiru sighed. "Pimp Hat wanted sake, but no one had them, so we called Melons. She wanted to stay and party with us, but Grumpy-pants came and dragged her away."

"Well, that explains everything," Byakuya muttered.

Kenpachi appeared bemused. "Melons and Grumpy-pants?"

"Matsumodo and Hitsugaya," Byakuya clarified dutifully.

Kenpachi blinked. "How did you know that?"

"Well, do _you_ know of anyone else who could be called 'Melons' and 'Grumpy-pants'?"

Kenpachi paused. "Good point."

Yachiru regarded the scene, and pouted. "I thought it would be more fun. It was supposed to be a _good_ party, with cake, and candy, and ice cream, and cookies, and pie!"

"Pie?" Byakuya asked, his interest piqued.

"Yeah! Apple, cherry, blueberry, lemon-whachamacallums, chocolate pie, ice cream pie, all of it! See?" She pointed to the tables, only to discover none of these listed sweets were present. Her smile faltered. "Hey, where'd they all go?" She tapped a finger contemplatively to her cheek, and then memory dawned. "Oh, guess I ate them all. Oh, well. You two just took too long, I suppose." She giggled.

Byakuya looked slightly disappointed for a moment. "Just as well. I get enough sweets with Renji's cookies, anyway…" He grimaced and laid a hand on his stomach, as if the simple thought returned the pain of overindulgence.

Kenpachi raised his brow. "You actually _eat_ those things?"

Byakuya appeared vaguely surprised. "Of course I do. He goes through all the trouble of baking them, doesn't he? He always makes too many, though. So I give the rest to Yachiru."

"They're great!" Yachiru said brightly. "Best cookies ever!"

Kenpachi shook his head. "You two are nuts…"

Byakuya found this comment rather paradoxical, but it seemed to ignite a spark of inspiration in Yachiru. "Oh! We should have him put nuts in them next!"

Byakuya considered this. "Hm…that sounds good, actually…"

"Yeah!" Yachiru gasped suddenly. "Oh! That reminds me!" She leapt down and rushed to the tables. She ducked under the one nearest the door, and a moment later emerged with a miraculously untouched pie. "I saved one for you, Cookie!"

Byakuya looked immediately cheered. "Cherry! How did you know that was my favorite?"

Yachiru leapt up into his arms again. "It's my favorite, too!" She stared longingly down at the pie. "You'll share with me, right?"

"Naturally," Byakuya said airily, and walked out still cradling the pink-haired girl.

Kenpachi sweatdropped. "I should have stayed in the Rukon," he grumbled, and with one last backwards glance into his ruined office, he pursued the other two.


	5. Arrancar Three: Misunderstanding

_**Tales of the Arrancar: Three**_

_Summary: _Ulquiorra has a question. Szayel and Nnoitra think they have answers. Grimmjow wants to kill them all. Gin is having way too much fun. Orihime wants none of this. And Aizen wonders what he ever saw in such morons…

_Main cast: _Ulquiorra, Szayel, Grimmjow, Nnoitra, Aizen, Gin, Orihime, Wonderweiss, Kaname.

_Pairings: _A hint of Ulqui/Orihime at the end.

_Overall warnings: _Grimmjow's potty mouth and Szayel's and Nnoitra's stupidity. Consider yourself warned. 

**Misunderstanding**

"Hey, watch out for the—"

_ CRASH. _

"…Never mind.

"You're heading straight for the—"

_BOOM. _

"…Forget it.

"Look out for the—"

_BANG._

"…Too late.

"Stop! There's a—"

_CRASH. BOOM. BANG. SCREE._

"…That's…gonna leave a mark."

Orihime sighed and, to her left, Gin giggled like an overexcited schoolgirl as Ulquiorra lifted Grimmjow right off the ground and flung him across the cavernous chamber. The airborne Espada impacted the wall with such tremendous force a two-foot wide crack split the stone from floor to ceiling. Grimmjow lay sprawled on his back, dazed, for only an instant before he leapt to his feet again. He stomped up to Ulquiorra and recommenced to shriek in the other Arrancar's face, his voice magnified to a chaotic cacophony.

Neither Gin nor Orihime found they could comprehend much of the violent verbal barrage which followed. Shameful incompetence was remarked upon. Level of intelligence was questioned. Dismemberment was threatened. The anal cavities were suggested as storage areas for various unpleasant objects. Both Espada were invited to indulge in copious amounts of self-pleasure, or, in the event this was not to the satisfaction of said Espada, to engage in rather indecent acts with their respective mothers (Orihime did not know if Arrancar _had_ mothers, but at the moment she thought this point might be moot). Rude gestures were offered and returned. A continuous overlapping stream of obscure obscenities Orihime had never heard and whose meanings she did not truly wish to discover flowed back and forth. She even believed she heard mention of peanuts and jellybeans, although she did not see how such foods might be relevant to the current situation.

Most of this, incredibly, originated from Grimmjow's side.

Throughout the majority of the exchange Ulquiorra merely stood there, pallid and neutral as the soft beams of moonlight which perpetually illuminated Hueco Mundo. He seemed entirely undaunted by Grimmjow's threats and admonitions; if anything, he looked rather bored, like this were a business conference in which he had little or no interest. Occasionally, when Grimmjow had to pause for breath, he attempted to interject, but was always quickly overridden.

"Don't think I'm going to let _you _to take all the credit when it was me who did the _work_—"

"I—"

"_I'm_ the one who fought the Soul Reapers, _you _just stood around looking pretty with your thumb up your ass—"

"You—"

"_You_ didn't get involved at all until I was just about to make the kill, _then_ you decided to jump in and stop me—"

"Don't—"

"You went on and on about how that wasn't part of Aizen's orders, not part of the _plan_, but I know the truth, you just wanted to steal my glory and make me look like a fool—"

"I—"

"You talk about how you're just doing what you're told, but you're as greedy as the rest of us, you're worse than the rest of us put _together_, you lying avaricious petty thief sorry excuse for an Espada!"

No. It still did not make any sense to Orihime. Nor was it clear to Aizen Sousuke himself, apparently. He sat upon his unadorned white throne, drumming the fingertips of his left hand on the arm, his chin rested in his right palm. His eye twitched with every word uttered, and he seemed ready to seize both Espada and strangle them on the spot.

"My, my," Gin piped in a rather disturbing singsong. "They make me all nostalgic. They remind me of when Byakuya and Soi Fon used to fight. Ah, how they screamed at each other! You'd never hear Byakuya shout that way now. They'd always end up making out behind the barracks. Think these two will do the same?"

Orihime chose not to respond.

"They can have my lab, if _that's_ the way they're going to go."

Orihime whirled and found herself face to face with none other than Szayel Aporro Granz, his amber eyes alight, his full lips curved in a delighted smirk. Not long ago Orihime would have been shocked by the Espada's sudden appearance, but by now she had grown more or less accustomed to the unexpected, unannounced comings and goings of the Arrancar. Szayel moved to her side. She did not tense, as she might have in her earlier days in Los Noches, and he winked at her.

Meanwhile, Grimmjow had graduated to further endeavors to cause Ulquiorra physical harm, but was not having much success. Ulquiorra evaded each punch and kick and headbutt with ease, his visage unchanged. Grimmjow's insults slowly turned to inarticulate, animalistic roars of pure rage.

"Why are they fighting now?" Szayel questioned, though he did not sound like he particularly cared.

Orihime shrugged. There was, in truth, only one logical reason for all this violence she could infer.

"They fight like a married couple," she muttered.

She had not intended to actually be heard, especially not by Grimmjow and Ulquiorra themselves, who should not have been able to hear anything over Grimmjow anyway. However, both Arrancars had extremely attuned ears when it came to something which might constitute an affront, and almost at once total silence fell over the palace.

Grimmjow gaped at Orihime in frank astonishment, one fist captured in the gentle but implacable grip of his would-be victim. Ulquiorra merely looked bemused.

"My, my!" Szayel exclaimed, and Orihime reflected how eerily alike Gin the rose-haired Espada sounded. "They _do_ quarrel like old spouses, don't they?"

Grimmjow still appeared incapable of coherent speech. Ulquiorra's confused expression lingered, as if he was not quite sure what was going on. Szayel regarded them both, waiting for a reaction, smiling pleasantly.

Dead quiet ensued for the next two and half seconds. Naturally, the one to break it was none other than…

"A MARRIED couple, you no-good four-eyed pink-headed mad scientist wannabe piece of shit slutty MAN-WHORE! A freakin' _MARRIED COUPLE_?"

…yes, Grimmjow.

Orihime blinked, astounded. Gin whistled appreciatively. Aizen ceased the restless drum of his fingers against his chair. Szayel, however, smirked slyly at the irate Arrancar.

"So…when is the honeymoon?"

Grimmjow turned from almost as white as Ulquiorra to deep scarlet with alarming speed. A dangerous vein pulsed in his temple.

"Honeymoon?" he seethed. "You mean you want me to get down on my knees and_ propose_ to this gothic clown ghost vampire wannabe cheap horror-movie prop zombie _freak_?"

"Have any plans for kids yet?" Szayel inquired blithely.

"_KIDS?_" Grimmjow looked on the verge of an eruption. The vein in his brow was ready to pop. His face had now become an ugly shade of purple. "I'LL MAKE IT SO YOU CAN NEVER HAVE KIDS, YOU WORTHLESS GENDER-CONFUSED PIG!"

"Is _that_ the problem, Grimmjow?" Szayel asked, with honest curiosity. "Are you a _eunuch_, perhaps?"

"Why, you—" He whipped out his sword, so fast Orihime did not even see the motion, and Szayel immediately drew his, but before either of them could initiate the battle Ulquiorra spoke up.

"Where do babies come from?"

Grimmjow, who had begun to charge at Szayel, tripped on his own two feet and fell face-first to the floor. Szayel nearly did the same, but grabbed onto Orihime at the last second to steady himself. Orihime stared incredulously at Ulquiorra. Aizen, too, seemed unable to believe his ears.

Grimmjow, from his new ground-level perspective, glared up at Ulquiorra. "Don't ask stupid questions, you stupid—"

"Grimmjow," Szayel said. He looked amazed.

Grimmjow shifted his fiery gaze to him. "_What_?"

Szayel still regarded Ulquiorra, open-mouthed. "I really think he doesn't know."

Ulquiorra glanced between the two, his head cocked slightly in a wordless inquisitive gesture. Grimmjow started to realize the truth as well, and for the second time that day he was too astonished to speak.

Ulquiorra turned expectantly to Szayel.

Szayel recovered with a speed he alone could be capable of. He approached Ulquiorra and slipped an arm around his slim shoulders. "Well, you see, Ulqui, all creatures in this world are divided into two categories: male and female. You and I are male. Orihime is female, as you can clearly tell from her…" He cast a furtive glance at the human girl. She smiled tentatively. "…Rather prominent endowments. Now, the category in which we would place Grimmjow is doubtful—"

"_Why, you_—" Grimmjow lunged at Szayel, but Ulquiorra reached out and snatched his throat. The white-skinned Espada held his struggling captive suspended several inches off the ground, apparently impervious to the continued blows that struck his chest and arms. He never took his eyes off Szayel.

"So, you see, Ulqui, my love, when a male and female like each other very much, they find a sufficient room with a nice bed, or maybe just a capacious table—"

"Or the desk in Yamamoto's office," Gin put in. The others looked at him. Aizen in particular appeared faintly disturbed by the implications in his fellow Soul Reaper's statement.

"Oh, come on, Lord Aizen," Gin said. "Don't tell me _you_ never tried it at least _once_—"

Aizen coughed into his hand and glanced the other way with an embarrassed look which did nothing to convince his companions he had not indeed attempted such a thing.

"So," Szayel resumed, after a few hushed moments, "when the two Hollows in question find a good bed or table…or place on the roof of Los Noches above Aizen's quarters…"

Aizen now seemed as if he might be sick.

"They proceed to remove their garments, and then…well, here, let me demonstrate with Grimmjow."

Grimmjow blanched. He fought frantically against Ulquiorra's hold. His eyes bulged. Yet Ulquiorra did not let go, and Grimmjow could only watch, helpless, as Szayel advanced. Rather than strip him and violate him in a number of unspeakable ways, as he expected, however, Szayel did something utterly inexplicable: he stuck his hand right through the hole in Grimmjow's midsection.

Grimmjow grew still, mouth agape in an expression of stunned incomprehension which would have been comical in less peculiar circumstances. Gin whistled. Aizen blinked. Orihime did not know quite how to react, whether she should be disturbed or relieved. Ulquiorra displayed no outward response at all. He merely observed, the faintest hint of interest in his diamantine emerald orbs.

"So," Szayel continued in his most scientific, no-nonsense tone, undeterred by the general astonishment of his audience, "once the hand is inserted, the Hollow in question must then rotate it inside the hole, clockwise if it is the right hand, counterclockwise if it is the left, no more than ten times and no less than five. Are you with me so far?"

Ulquiorra nodded.

"Good. You do it like so." He began to circle the periphery of the hollow area in Grimmjow's abdomen in careful, gradual revolutions. Grimmjow started to struggle again, but Ulquiorra's strength far exceeded his; he might as well have stayed still.

"You're doing it wrong," Aizen spoke up abruptly.

Szayel stopped and diverted his attention to the dark-haired Soul Reaper, startled. "Excuse me?"

"You're doing it wrong," Aizen repeated. "That's your right hand, but you're turning it counterclockwise. It's supposed to be clockwise, isn't it?"

"No, this is my left."

"No, Szayel, that's your _right_ hand."

"It's my left, Lord Aizen."

"That's the right hand!"

"It's _your_ right," Szayel corrected with exaggerated patience, as if he were trying to tell an obdurate two-year-old one and one makes two and not three. "It's _my _left."

"Where did you learn your directions?" Aizen scoffed.

"Where did you learn _yours_?" retorted the Eighth Espada.

"I'm telling you, Szayel, you're doing it wrong."

"And I'm telling you, my _lord_, _you_ are wrong."

"Are you calling your master a liar?"

"No, I'm calling my master an _idiot_!"

Aizen looked incensed. "Are you _trying_ to get fired again?"

"Are you trying to look like a moron?" Szayel shot back.

"I could turn your ass right back into a Gillian before you can say 'brainless blob,' science boy!"

"Bring it on, Soul King wannabe!"

"My, my," Gin murmured to Orihime. "Looks like we'll have to prepare for _two_ weddings."

Again, Orihime decided it was safer to ignore him.

"Um, Szayel," she called diffidently.

Szayel took a long time to reply. Finally, he shifted his burning gaze from Aizen to Orihime. "Yes, Princess?" The epithet was not derisive; while most of the other Arrancar used this pun on her name in a manner intended to demean her, Szayel always addressed her as such earnestly, not with condescension but something as close to humility as he perhaps could ever come.

"Um…" She pointed. Szayel glanced downward.

During his brief verbal conflict with Aizen, he had unconsciously rotated his hand faster and faster within Grimmjow's hole until it was only a white blur.

"Oh," he said, subdued. "Oops. Sorry, Grimmjow."

Grimmjow glared wordlessly.

"If you're not careful, Szayel," Gin piped, "we'll end up with an army of mini blue-haired mad scientists running around here."

Grimmjow paled. Orihime blushed. Aizen looked as though he had never heard of anything so appalling. Ulquiorra appeared thoughtful.

"Is that all it takes, then?" he asked. "Is this how we make babies?"

"Yep!" Szayel said, suddenly cheerful again. "After a short period—I'm not sure how long, it probably varies, you know, depending upon strength and all that—the babies form and pop out of the hole!"

"Of course," Gin said softly. "It is so simple, and yet so brilliant!" Szayel nodded solemnly.

"So…you just made a bunch of babies?" Ulquiorra inquired. Grimmjow choked.

"Nah," Szayel said. "It only works with different genders, and I'm pretty sure Grimmjow and I are in the same category."\

Grimmjow relaxed, although his relief was somewhat diminished by the fact Ulquiorra still had him by the neck.

"Are you sure?" Gin asked. "Has it ever been tried with two of the same gender?"

Szayel's brow furrowed. "Well…no…not that I know of…"

"So maybe it _does_ work, no matter the genders."

"Maybe…" Szayel lapsed into a transitory contemplative silence, and then he gasped. "Grimmjow, we might have just started a family!"  
Grimmjow looked absolutely horrified.

Tears began to form in Szayel's golden eyes. "Oh, Grimmjow, we're parents!" He flung his arms around the other Espada's neck. Grimmjow tried to fight him off, muffled howls of mingled rage and disgust emerging from his blocked throat, but it was no use. Neither Szayel nor Ulquiorra yielded.

"You both are idiots," came a bored voice behind them.

They turned. Szayel let go of Grimmjow, who ceased his fruitless struggles long enough to determine the identity of their unexpected visitor.

Nnoitra, draped in the shadows on the opposite end of the chamber, leaned casually on the hilt of his enormous sword. When he saw them looking, he raised a suggestive eyebrow.

"What are you talking about, Nnoitra?" Szayel questioned. His eyes darted around the room, slightly narrowed. When Nnoitra showed up, it usually meant Nel was nearby, and when Nel was present, widespread destruction and the general humiliation of all unfortunate parties in the area was imminent.

"You all have no idea what it takes to make a baby," Nnoitra said, and accentuated his point with a haughty toss of his hair.

Szayel stopped his furtive search for Nelliel. "Are you trying to insinuate you _do_, Nnoitra?"

"Tch, I know things you wouldn't _believe_, Aporro."

"Yeah, right, and Kaname's _not_ secretly plotting to overthrow Aizen at the pivotal moment in their war with the Soul Society."

Aizen perked up. "Huh?"

Nnoitra laughed sardonically. "Pitiful. You have no clue…"

Szayel hesitated, and then begrudgingly enquired, "What?"

Nnoitra uttered a low, maddening chuckle, but whatever secrets he knew—or believed he knew—he did not reveal them.

Szayel crossed his arms. "Nnoitra…what knowledge exactly do you think you possess that I am woefully lacking?"

"Knowledge on how to fight, for starters," Nnoitra jeered.

Szayel waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, please, Nnoitra. You can't even beat Nel. How many times has she kicked your giant spoon ass?"

Nnoitra's smirk vanished, replaced by rage. "As if you could do any better, science-freak!" He paused, and then added defensively, "It's the boobs. I could beat her if it wasn't for those damn boobs! They always get in my way!"

"He has a point," Gin said thoughtfully. "This one time, when I was sparring with Rangiku—purely for fun, of course—she tripped me and I went straight into her bust. Nearly suffocated."

Szayel appeared to consider this, and then shrugged. "True, true. That's happened to me with Harribel more than once…"

"What have you been doing with Harribel?" Ulquiorra asked.

Szayel smiled mysteriously.

"Anyway…" Nnoitra cleared his throat and straightened. He regained his characteristic air of confidence—or perhaps arrogance would be a more appropriate term—and plastered his smirk back onto his face. "_I _know how babies are _really_ made."

Szayel raised an eyebrow. "Oh, do you?"

"And how would you know anything about it?" Ulquiorra inquired, with a hint of skepticism.

Nnoitra's grin broadened. "Where do you think Tesla came from?"

Everyone looked distinctly ill, except for Gin.

"I knew it!" he exclaimed.

Szayel gave Nnoitra an 'I-will-humor-you-for-now' look. "Oh, please, do enlighten us." Nnoitra, maybe because his pride blinded him, or maybe because he truly was as dense as he appeared, missed the thick sarcasm in the Eighth Espada's voice.

"Just cut off the head."

There was an instant in which his six companions merely stared at him, unsure how to take what they had heard.

"Uh…what?" Szayel said finally.

"Cut off the head," Nnoitra repeated airily. "That's all it takes. When you want to make a baby, just find another Hollow, chop of their head, and the baby will pop right out! Trust me, I've done it loads of times. It works perfectly!"

Total silence. Orihime could almost hear the crickets chirp somewhere in the background, although of course there were no such insects in Hueco Mundo.

"Um…are you sure we're talking about the same thing?" There was a touch of uncharacteristic uncertainty in Szayel's tone. He seemed faintly sickened, if that was possible for Szayel.

"You're talking about making babies, right?"

"Yeah, but…" Szayel still looked ambivalent. He mused briefly, then scoffed and scowled at Nnoitra. "I'd say _you_ are the idiot, spoon-boy. You don't reproduce by chopping off heads!"

Nnoitra sighed. "Oh, you are so clueless, Aporro, and you don't have any idea…"

Szayel rolled his eyes pointedly to the high vaulted ceiling. "Who is the clueless one, I wonder?"

Nnoitra snorted. "Fine. If you're going to be stubborn, I'll just show you. Hey, ghost-boy, bring catwoman over here."

Grimmjow fought against Ulquiorra's hold with renewed desperation. Ulquiorra, however, only appraised Nnoitra, confused. After a moment, Szayel leaned over and murmured, "He means Grimmjow."

"Oh." Ulquiorra took an automatic step forward. Then he halted. He appeared not to notice the numerous blows which rained on his head and torso as Grimmjow struggled tirelessly for his freedom. His catlike orbs narrowed infinitesimally, his lips curved gently downward in the slightest expression of suspicion. "Are you sure about this? Perhaps it would be better if we don't demonstrate this one…"

Grimmjow again ceased his useless punches and kicks and began to nod in vigorous assent.

"Oh, come now," Nnoitra coaxed with false benignity. "I promise not to hurt him…too badly."

Ulquiorra looked torn. "Well…"

Grimmjow's eyes widened. He shook his head violently.

"Won't chopping off his head _kill_ him?"

"Oh, no…" Nnoitra said. "I wouldn't kill him…permanently. I'm sure the science freak can bring him back."

"I don't know," Ulquiorra said. "I don't think we should risk it."

Grimmjow nodded.

"You worry too much, Ulqui, darling," Szayel chirped. "You know how adept I am at resurrection. You remember how successful my last attempt was…"

Szayel's last 'successful' attempt could be summed up in one word: Luppi. Grimmjow started to shake his head once more in a silent plea for mercy.

"Well…" Ulquiorra still did not seem wholly convinced.

Several tense minutes passed. Suddenly, just as it appeared Ulquiorra was about to make a decision, Wonderweiss, who had sat inconspicuously in the shadow of Aizen's throne, pulled his thumb out of his mouth and spoke.

"When a male and female organism come together, the egg and sperm combine to create the zygote, which then evolves into a fetus over a period of nine months in the female's uterus. Then it is born as a baby."

Silence.

Aizen, Gin, Orihime, Nnoitra, Szayel, Grimmjow, and Ulquiorra stared at the blond Numeros, stunned.

Finally, Szayel said, "…Huh?"

Wonderweiss, however, ignored him and turned to Aizen. "Cookie?" he asked hopefully.

Aizen blinked. "Huh?"

"Cookie," Wonderweiss repeated insistently.

Aizen could only gape, nonplussed.

Abruptly, Tousen Kaname appeared beside Wonderweiss. He reached into his robes and brought out a large chocolate-chip cookie. He tapped Wonderweiss on the shoulder and, when the Hollow glanced back, shoved the treat into his open mouth.

Wonderweiss chewed happily, humming to himself.

Kaname offered Aizen a quick bow and disappeared.

Aizen, Szayel, Nnoitra, Orihime, Ulquiorra and Grimmjow all face-faulted. Gin, however, looked indignant.

"Hey, where's _my_ cookie?" he objected loudly. If he had hoped Kaname would rematerialize to give him the same goodie he had given Wonderweiss, however, he was disappointed.

A dull _thud_ echoed in the chamber as Ulquiorra at last released Grimmjow. The blue-haired Espada immediately leapt to his feet and rounded on his pale-skinned comrade. He looked about to detonate with another assault of verbal and possibly physical abuse, but Ulquiorra Sonidoed around to his flank.

"So…where do babies come from?"

No one answered.

By this point, Grimmjow had lost all semblance of tolerance. "You…you…" For an instant, it seemed he was too infuriated to form a coherent sentence, and then, with the abrupt, savage force of the eruption of a volcano, he screamed, "You bunch of perverted Gillian-brained sick-minded sex-obsessed sadistic bloodthirsty MORONS! It's a good thing you all have no frickin' idea what the hell you're talking about, because no one needs you impotent eunuch megalomaniac freak-show master race wannabes to multiply! If you ever managed to spawn a horde of thumb-sucking bed-wetting rosy-palmed kiss-ass little bastards, I would kill myself! Thank all that is evil I'll never have to worry about that, because the day any of _you_ procreate, Nnoitra will look normal, Aizen and Tousen will admit the real reason they ran off was to get married and Ichimaru is their lovechild, Orihime will do something useful, Ulquiorra won't be in love with her, and Szayel's hair will turn orange! ORANGE, I SAY! _ORANGE_!"

For the third time, a complete hush descended over Los Noches. All this had been said in one breath, and needless to say, none of the rant's recipients had quite understood it. Grimmjow panted, his face so red one could almost discern plumes of steam emit from his flesh and ears.

This time, a certain amber-eyed Espada spoke first.

"Orange? My hair would be _ORANGE_?"

Grimmjow growled expectantly at him.

Ulquiorra glanced between the two, somewhere between anxiety and exasperation.

Gin leaned forward eagerly.

Orihime blinked.

Nnoitra rolled his eyes.

Aizen groaned.

"OH, NOW YOU ARE GONNA _GET_ IT!" Szayel unsheathed his sword and charged Grimmjow.

"BRING IT ON!"

_CRASH. BOOM. BANG. _

…There went the south wall.

Aizen slapped his palm to his brow. "Here we go again…"

Gin Shunpoed to his side. "Well, at least Grimmjow and Ulquiorra aren't fighting anymore," he said cheerily. Aizen did not look reassured.

Ulquiorra observed indifferently as his two comrades raced across the chamber, until at last, he released a soft resigned sigh and went to Orihime. He considered her, his head tilted slightly, his pallid visage as smooth and lovely as always. "Will _you_ show me where babies come from?"

Orihime appeared taken aback. Her cheeks flushed, she appraised him, and then she smiled shyly. "Sure." She took his hand and led him to the exit.

Gin caught glimpse of the two departing figures. "Should we follow them, Sousuke? We could watch."

Aizen gazed up at him, mute, although whether out of shock or indignation it was impossible to determine. Gin shrugged. "Oh, well, have it your way. Your loss."

He vanished, but was soon replaced by Nnoitra, who huddled close to Aizen's throne in an attempt to escape the destruction caused by the dueling Espada below.

Aizen covered his eyes and muttered something which might have been a prayer. Nnoitra looked up, bemused.

"…Did you just say the Soul Society's Head Captain should have used softener on his Lieutenant's moustache?"


	6. Soul Reapers Three: Overheard

_**Tales of the Soul Reapers: Three**_

_Summary: _Byakuya and Renji are overheard engaged in a rather…peculiar conversation.

_Main cast: _Toshiro, Ukitake, Yoruichi, Kisuke, Rukia, Ichigo, Byakuya, Renji.

_Pairings: _Implied Byakuya/Renji. Yes, you read that right. The ultimate Bleach fangirl guilty pleasure. _I am not responsible for any keyboards ruined from copious amounts of drool._ ;)

_Overall warnings: _Beware of the delicious perverted yaoi thoughts that lurk around every sentence. And do _not_ make Ukitake angry. You won't like Uki-sama when he's angry…

**Overheard**

"_Why_ do I have to do this again?" Hitsugaya Toshiro complained for the fifth time in as many minutes.

Ukitake Jushiro tossed his long, elegant white hair and gave the boy the sternest look he could muster. Which, in truth, was not very compelling. "We have been over this, Toshiro. These are our _orders_. Don't question, just do as you are told."

"I just don't know what this has to do with _me_," Toshiro insisted, arms crossed, staring ahead with his usual sullenness.

"You are a Captain."

"Yes, the Captain of Squad _Ten_. Which is four numbers away from six."

"I can count, Toshiro. What's your point?"

Toshiro glared at him. "My point is I don't have any association whatsoever with Squad Six, much less that stuck up piece of—"

"Toshiro!"

"—Kuchiki Byakuya or his equally stuck up son of a—"

"_Toshiro_!"

"—Lieutenant!"

"Byakuya is not stuck up. He simply has a lot of responsibilities and troubles—"

"Yes," Toshiro muttered under his breath. "Troubles being decent to other people."

"And Renji is…well…" Ukitake frowned. "Well, he's all right once you get to know him. And you get past the eyebrows…"

"I still don't see why it has to be _me_ who looks for them. Or you, for that matter. What about Yamamoto?"

"He's preparing for the meeting tonight. You know how important that is."

"Fine, then, why can't Soi Fon? Aren't she and Byakuya...you know…a _thing_?"

Ukitake raised an eyebrow. "A '_thing'_, Toshiro?"

"You know what I mean!"

The elder man's face reddened. "That…would not be wise."

"Why not?"

"She and Byakuya…well, let's just say, if she were sent out to find him, we wouldn't see either of them again for about a week."

Toshiro appeared bemused for a moment, and then color flushed his pale cheeks. "Oh…uh…right. Um…so…what about Gin? He's practically in love with Byakuya."

"That's…probably why he isn't allowed anywhere near him."

"Oh?" Toshiro looked puzzled again, and then horrified recognition dawned in his expression. "_Oh_…" He shuddered. "Well…all…all right, then. Uh…Unohana?"

"Too busy trying to help Shunsui recover from his last sake binge and Nanao's punishment…"

"Well, that explains why Shunsui didn't come along with you…" He paused. "Aizen?"

"He's locked himself in his quarters and he won't come out. His entire squad has been trying to convince him, including Momo, but he continuously refuses. Apparently, this has been going on for almost three days now…"

"What's _his _problem?"

Ukitake shrugged. He seemed to struggle against laughter. "Rumor has it Gin called him 'four-eyes' and said he'd never seen anything uglier than a Soul Reaper with glasses. Aizen nearly broke down right there, and now he doesn't want to be seen by the outside world with his hideous glasses. Or so the story goes."

"Sounds like them," Toshiro said sourly. "Komamura?"

"Chasing after a cat."

"_Again_? That's the sixth time this week!"

"You should have seen him the day half the pet cats in the Seireitei got loose. Oh, what a nightmare…" Ukitake groaned at the memory.

Toshiro contemplated briefly how difficult it must be for the other members of Squad Seven, and felt a pang of sympathy. He was not wholly ignorant to such plights; he did, after all, have Matsumodo Rangiku as a Lieutenant. "Tousen?" he pressed on.

"Trying to restrain Komamura."

"What about Kenpachi, then? Don't tell me he's busy fighting random unlucky passersby again…"

Ukitake only looked at him. It did not take long for Toshiro to get the message. "Oh," he said. "Right. Never mind." Zaraki Kenpachi was not known to care for the welfare and personal property of others. If he was given such a mission, he would most likely leave half the Soul Society in ruins in his quest to uncover where Byakuya and Renji were hiding.

"Mayuri?"

Ukitake blinked. "Would you want _that_ sent after _you_?"

Toshiro considered this. "I see your point," he conceded dryly, and then he sighed. "So that leaves us."

"And here we are," Ukitake agreed.

Toshiro was about resign himself to the assignment he had been forcibly handed when something else occurred to him. "What about Shihoin Yoruichi and Urahara Kisuke? Byakuya used to sweat up the Kuchiki sheets with Catwoman there, right? And speaking of sweating up the Kuchiki sheets, why aren't Rukia and Ichigo on this mission instead? If anyone would know where Byakuya and Renji are, it would be the sister-ex-girlfriend, right?"

"Toshiro, Rukia is _not_ Renji's ex-girlfriend," Ukitake said, with the air of one who has had to reiterate this fact many a time.

Toshiro scoffed. "Oh, please, don't tell me you buy that whole 'we're just friends' thing those two try to sell…"

Ukitake elected not to answer.

"So," Toshiro continued, speaking quickly now, rare excitement dancing in his blue-green eyes, "there really is no reason for us to be here at all. We should leave this mission to more qualified individuals, it's only natural—"

Satisfied he had made a sufficient argument to be relieved of this duty, he promptly turned and started back the way they had come, but Ukitake snatched his collar. "Not so fast, Captain. This is our assignment, and we are _going_ to complete it."

Toshiro, his ephemeral hopes slain, followed the older white-haired man, muttering partially incoherent promises for revenge against all parties involved and about the injustice of irrational obligations.

Before long, the Kuchiki manor loomed into view. It was a large building, affluent in a subtle, unostentatious manner that did little to diminish the vague resentment Toshiro felt at the sight of it. As they walked past the polished wooden walls, he reflected on how much different the world must seem from within their comfortable confines. As always, however, he decided he would not have traded the way he himself had been brought up even for such privilege. He felt all he had endured to achieve the power and position he now held allowed him to appreciate it all the more.

"Where is the entrance to this damn place, anyway?"

"Just around here, I think…"

"You _think_?"

"Well, after the last time Ginrei chased Shunsui and me off the property in his pajamas shooting Shakkahos at us, we kind of lost interest in visiting…"

Toshiro raised an eyebrow at him. "You and Shunsui were chased off the property? What were you doing?"

"Well…" Ukitake cleared his throat, evidently embarrassed. "Shunsui thought it would be…ah…humorous if we snuck in, in the dead of night, and…uh…borrowed a few…valuable items…"

"You mean you broke in and stole from the Kuchikis."

Ukitake flushed. "More or less."

"And you were almost turned to Swiss cheese. Intelligent. I can certainly see how you qualified to be Captains."

Ukitake coughed into his hand and murmured something which sounded suspiciously like, "It wasn't _my_ idea…"

They rounded another corner, and Toshiro, who had sped up to walk a little in front of Ukitake, slammed into something hard with enough force to knock him off his feet.

"Hey!"

"Ouch!"

Ukitake caught the younger Soul Reaper deftly with one arm. Toshiro looked up, ready to severely reprimand whoever he had encountered for their lack of attention to their surroundings, but the words died before they could be born when he glimpsed a familiar flash of orange.

"Kurosaki?"

"Oh, hey, Toshiro!" Ichigo greeted as he stood, rubbing the small of his back with a slight grimace. "Captain Ukitake."

"Hello, Ichigo, Rukia," Ukitake said. Rukia, hovering behind Ichigo, inclined her head in respectful acknowledgement.

"How come you call _him_ Captain, but not me?" Toshiro grumbled, but neither Ichigo nor Ukitake paid him heed.

"What are you guys doing here?" Ichigo questioned.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Toshiro challenged in return.

"Well…" Ichigo glanced at Rukia.

"We're looking for my brother." There was obvious distress in her expression; she wrung her hands restlessly and chewed at her lower lip, her gaze darting around as if Byakuya might emerge any moment from the bushes that lined the periphery of the veranda. "No one seems to know where he and Renji are."

"That is why we're here, as well," Ukitake said. She looked at him, surprised, and he smiled. "The Captain Commander sent us to locate the two. There is a meeting in only a few hours, but Byakuya did not respond to the announcement, and when we tried to contact Renji we received no reply from him, either."

"So they sent us, the rescue team," Toshiro said. Ichigo missed the sarcasm.

"When did you become a rescue team?" he asked.

Toshiro rolled his eyes. "Never mind. Are they here or not?"

"We don't know," Ichigo said, and now he too appeared anxious. "I can't sense their spiritual pressures, but then, I suppose when Soul Reapers don't want to be found…"

"Why wouldn't they?" Rukia mused, more to herself than the others. "What could they be _doing_?"

Several different scenarios occurred to the four of them, all of which contained various disturbing exploits most self-respecting individuals would wish to remain discreet about.

"Oh—" Ichigo began.

"—my—" Toshiro continued.

"—_God_," Ukitake concluded.

Rukia surmised quickly from their expressions the direction their contemplations had gone. "You're all_ sick_!" she cried, furious color in her face. "You're all sick _perverts_!"

Ukitake cleared his throat. Ichigo shifted uncomfortably. Toshiro scoffed.

"Oh, come now," he said reasonably. "You had to have seen it coming eventually. I mean, two Bankai's _that_ big—"

"Toshiro!" Ukitake exclaimed, horrorstruck. "You are far too young to be thinking that way!"

"Don't tell me you never thought—"

"Regardless," Ukitake said loudly, cutting him off. "We are here for the sole purpose of finding them, not to speculate why they might be missing. We're close to the entrance. Let's go." He snatched a handful of Toshiro's robes and proceeded to drag him across the porch. Ichigo and Rukia pursued close behind.

Around a second corner, they met a very strange sight. Shihoin Yoruichi and Urahara Kisuke appeared to have concurred with Toshiro's earlier assertion they should be the ones to search for the errant Captain and Lieutenant; the pair stood by the door, the right side of their faces pressed against the wood. Yoruichi's mouth was curved in a very sly smile. Kisuke looked intrigued.

"Yoruichi! Urahara!" Ichigo said, startled, but pleasantly, and he was immediately shushed. Kisuke beckoned them over.

"Are we interrupting something?" Ukitake inquired.

Yoruichi put a finger to her lips. "We're listening."

"To _what_?" Toshiro asked quietly.

Oddly, the violet-haired woman began to giggle. She stifled the noise with one hand and gestured with the other to the door. "Listen for yourself."

Toshiro, Ukitake, Ichigo, and Rukia all exchanged curious glances. Rukia was the first to move forward. Ichigo followed suit. The two Captains did the same, Ukitake with an expression of mild interest and dubiety, Toshiro with an air of great impatience. For a moment, they heard nothing in the room beyond but a peculiar steady _thud-thud-thud_.

"What is that?" Ichigo wondered aloud.

"Quiet!" Yoruichi hissed. Ichigo, indignant to be treated in such a manner, was about to retort when what was unmistakably Abarai Renji's voice wafted out to them.

"Wait for it…wait for it…" The noise of ripping cloth, and then Renji cried, "_Ta-da_!"

An instant of silence.

"Well?" Renji sounded eager, even a little nervous. "What do you think, Captain?"

"It's…huge." Byakuya's murmur was muffled by the thick wall between him and the six outside, but immediately recognizable. The young Captain sounded uncharacteristically uncertain, almost…intimidated.

"So they _are_ here," Rukia said. She tried to conceal her relief, but was only half-successful.

"Have they been here this entire time?" Ukitake wondered, bewildered. "But the other members of Squad Six said they'd searched the house and they weren't anywhere to be found!"

"Obviously, they didn't search hard enough," Toshiro snapped, quite irked he had been dragged all over Seireitei to look for two people who had been right here the whole while. "Now, come on, let's tell them they need to get their asses to headquarters so we can resume our more important work that we should, as Captains, be doing instead of leaving the responsibility to our very _irresponsible_ Lieutenants." He started to slide the door open, but Yoruichi snatched his wrist. He blinked at her. She, however, hushed him with a swipe of her hand.

"Not yet. Just listen."

On the other side, Renji spoke again with evident pride. "Impressive, isn't it?"

"It's big."

"Of course it is!" Renji said, a bit impatiently. "What did you expect?"

"I thought it would be…smaller."

Renji sighed. "Oh, Captain, Captain…that's just like you. Always underestimating me."

"Well," Byakuya said, with a hint of defensiveness, "who could have guessed it would turn out _that_ big?"

"What exactly is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"I've never seen one like _that_ before."

"Captain, how many of these have you actually _seen_?"

Byakuya's response was dismissive, as indifferent as Renji had been indignant. "Who is underestimating _who_ now?"

"You told me this was your first time!"

"Technically, it is."

"_Technically_?"

Byakuya sounded embarrassed; Ukitake could imagine the dim touch of sanguine which would bloom in the dark-haired Captain's face like the petals of a rose. "Well, Gin showed me his once." He lowered his voice so they almost did not catch his next words. "Not that I really wanted to see it…"

"_Gin_?" Renji echoed incredulously. "_Ichimaru_ Gin? Captain of the Third Squad? The clown-alien-freak…_thing_? _That_ Gin?"

"Yes. _That_ Gin. His was about the size of a peanut."

"No surprises there, but that's _him_. I assure you I am much better equipped."

"Evidently…if that thing is real."

Renji appeared startled by the implication. "Of course it's real! Did you think it would be _fake_?"

"I would not put it past you."

"Oh, come on, Captain! Have a little faith in me! I wouldn't _deceive_ you!"

Skeptical silence from the other man.

"All right, so maybe I _would_," Renji conceded. "But not about _this_! This is a rare opportunity for us to bond, not only as Captain and Lieutenant but as comrades, as friends, as _partners_."

"Funny," Byakuya said coldly. "Didn't you say something similar that time you whipped out your—"

"You swore you would never speak of that!"

"I just thought I should point out—"

"Yeah, yeah," Renji interjected hastily. "I'm an unreliable subordinate. I get it. Seriously, though, where would I find a _fake_ one, Captain Kuchiki?"

"Mayuri offered Shunsui one."

Ukitake stiffened at the mention of his old friend. The others cast him inquisitive looks, but he merely shook his head to indicate he had no more idea what was being discussed on the other side of the wall than they did.

"He…he has fakes?" Renji seemed quite disturbed.

"Apparently," Byakuya replied impassively.

"Why…?"

"Probably because he can't get his hands on a real one."

A transitory hesitation. "Uh…well…I assure you, mine is entirely authentic. Go on, feel it!" There was a rustle of movement. "Well? See how soft and warm it is? There's no way that could be anything but the real thing, right?"

"It does feel…rather nice," Byakuya admitted.

"I knew you'd come around."

"Shut up."

Outside, more and more uncomfortable with the inexplicable conversation between the Captain and Lieutenant of Squad Six, Kurosaki Ichigo shifted and pulled away from the door. "What are they _doing_ in there?" he wondered aloud, but he was no longer sure he wished to find out. He turned to Yoruichi and Kisuke for answers, but it was Toshiro who caught his attention. The youthful Soul Reaper gaped into the distance, teal orbs wide. His complexion had become as pallid as new frost. He looked beyond stunned, beyond disbelief; he appeared nothing short of traumatized.

"Hey, Toshiro?" Ichigo gently prodded his shoulder.

Hitsugaya displayed no sign he was even aware of the other boy's presence. "You have to be _kidding_ me…They can't really be…I was only _joking_…"

"Toshiro?" Ukitake said sharply. "Are you all right?"

"_Shhhh_!" Yoruichi hissed. "They'll hear!"

Toshiro pivoted slowly on the spot to face Ukitake. "Don't you realize what they're _doing_ in there?"

"What?" Ukitake and Ichigo both blinked in confusion, but Rukia had begun to catch on. Her eyes grew larger and larger until they threatened to consume her face, and her hand slowly went to her mouth. Her shock seemed to have rendered her incapable of coherent speech.

Her reaction, more than anything, prompted comprehension to dawn for Ichigo. If it had been physically possible for his jaw to hit the floor, it would have smashed a small crater in the wood beneath them. All color drained from his flesh. Yoruichi's smirk broadened. Kisuke's rapt visage remained unchanged.

Meanwhile, Ukitake's bewilderment increased.

"What are you _talking_ about?" he asked, dismayed by the strange behavior of his companions. In reply, he was immediately shushed by five different voices.

Within the Kuchiki manor, Renji was saying, "All right, Captain, let's see yours."

Byakuya sounded unsure. "Well…"

"Show me," Renji urged. "Come on, don't be shy!"

"Renji—" Byakuya seemed increasingly discomfited.

"Just take it off. Don't keep me in suspense!"

A soft sigh, mingled with the almost unheard susurration of torn fabric. There was an instant in which all was still, and then Renji's astonished intake of breath pierced the atmosphere.

"Wow…Captain…that is…"

Byakuya's tone was chagrined, but vaguely pleased. "Well, you don't have to _stare_. And close your mouth. You'll draw flies."

From his voice, Renji could not believe whatever it was he beheld. "But that thing is…_massive_. It's bigger than mine!"

"What did you expect?" Now there was a trace of inevitable smugness.

"_Not_ that."

"Well, if you are quite ready to put your eyes back into your head…"

"What?" Renji sounded like he had emerged from a deep sleep. "Oh, right. So, do you want to do mine first or should I do yours?"

"What? You mean we—?"

"What did you think we were _here_ for?"

"I…"

"Captain…I never knew you were so _shy_." The unaffected awe in the auburn-haired Lieutenant's tone was near childish, like a youth confronted with a truth with which he almost could not cope. "Are you actually _blushing_?"

"Oh, just hand it over, Renji."

Renji chuckled. "Well, aren't we eager?"

"Shut up." A pause. "You really want me to put this in my _mouth_?"

"Go ahead, have a little taste. Trust me, you'll love it. You've never had anything like it, I guarantee!"

Outside the closed doors, Rukia stepped back toward the edge of the veranda. "All right," she said, a little unsteadily. "So it is odd, this conversation, but surely we shouldn't jump to conclusions. They could just be—" Whatever harmless act she intended to suggest Kuchiki Byakuya and Abarai Renji were engaged in, however, she never had opportunity to say. She stopped, frozen by what they all heard loud and clear next.

A wet slurping noise carried through the solid obstruction of the walls to their ears. Byakuya appeared to have acquiesced to his subordinate's request and was eating…_something_. After several seconds of this, he uttered a muffled moan, "_Hmmm_…"

"Ah," Renji said. "Can't get enough, can you?"

"Be quiet," Byakuya admonished around a mouthful of whatever Renji had offered him.

Ichigo groaned. "Tell me he isn't doing what I think he is…"

No one replied. No one seemed able. Yoruichi alone was undaunted; if anything, her grin had only broadened.

"Sorry, Captain. Just savoring the moment…" He sniggered again. "My, my, you _are_ insatiable. You should slow down. Make it last. It's not going to run off on you, you know…"

Byakuya grunted in response.

He swallowed suddenly, and panted a minute before he said, breathless, "Renji…that was…"

"Lost for words?" Renji said, not without a hint of arrogance. "Told you you'd love it."

Byakuya moaned once more, and then seemed to recompose himself. "Regardless," he said, with a brave attempt at his usual coolness, "that thing was definitely too big. I damn near choked on it."

"Oh, you _enjoyed_ it, just admit it. Now come here."

"Renji, what is that?" Byakuya's demeanor altered; he sounded cautious, even frightened.

"You'll see…"

"Renji…what _is_ that?"

"You really don't trust me, do you?" Renji sighed. "It's whipped cream, Captain. Just whipped cream."

"You whipped your _what_?"

"Whipped _cream_," Renji repeated patiently. "I got it from Rukia. It's good, trust me."

Five pairs of eyes shifted to stare at Rukia. The younger Kuchiki looked distraught something she had given her childhood friend was now destined to be utilized for _this_.

Byakuya did not seem reassured. "What…do you plan to do with it?"

"I'm going to put it on yours. It'll enrich the flavor. I have some cherries, too, if you want to try those. Also some chocolate icing…oh! Let's get some sugar! My mouth is watering just thinking about it…"

"Stop it, Renji," Byakuya snapped, disgusted. "You're drooling all over me."

"Sorry, Captain. It's hard to restrain myself sometimes."

"Well, do whatever you want with it, just take it already. I don't have all day."

"All right, all right, relax…look, I'm putting it into my mouth _right_ now…"

Much to the horror of their unknown eavesdroppers, the moist slurping sounds began again, this time with double the enthusiasm. Renji may have called Byakuya insatiable, but from what he was hearing, Ichigo thought _Renji_ was the one who could not get enough.

"A perfect fit," Byakuya remarked. "Somehow I am unsurprised."

Renji might have been too preoccupied to detect the obvious insult, for he offered no retort. A short, torturous while later, Byakuya let out a sudden hiss of pain that made all six Soul Reapers outside jump. "_Ow_! Don't bite it off!"

A stifled apology, and then Renji gasped. He sounded like he was in absolute ecstasy. "Oh, Captain…that was _wonderful_…"

Byakuya snorted. "You're too aggressive, Renji. I swear, by the time the night is over, I'll have more bruises than Kenpachi's last 'best friend.'"

"Wasn't that _you_?"

"…Shut up."

Yoruichi looked pointedly at Rukia. "Do you _still _have any doubts?"

Rukia merely stared. Like Toshiro, she appeared as if she would not escape this experience psychologically unmarred.

Ukitake still did not understand. "Have doubts about what?" he inquired, but once more, instead of clarification he received a quintet of wordless admonitions to be quiet.

"Hey, Captain," Renji said. "Turn around."

"Renji, what the hell?"

"Turn_ around_, I said."

"Stop whacking me with that thing! It's sticky and gross."

"You certainly didn't mind running your tongue all over it," Renji muttered, but, perhaps because of something he discerned in Byakuya's expression, he said hastily, "Sorry, sorry! Now will you hold still? I want to show you something."

"I think I have had just about enough of you 'showing' me things today…_OW!_" A loud_ thump_, a _snap_, and Byakuya's ensuing shout caused Ichigo, Rukia, Ukitake, Toshiro, Kisuke, and Yoruichi all to start slightly.

"Captain?" Renji sounded alarmed. "Are you all right?"

"Renji! What the hell did you _do_?"

"I don't…oh, no."

"_What_?"

"I think…I think it's stuck."

_Stuck_? Ichigo mouthed unbelievingly. He had not imagined his horror could be any greater; he had been wrong. Beside him, Toshiro's visage had turned deadpan, while Yoruichi began to snigger uncontrollably. Rukia looked like she was about to faint. Kisuke's interest in what transpired beyond where they stood seemed undiminished. The same could be said for Ukitake's cluelessness, although his brow had creased a little when Renji proclaimed the unknown object in question was 'stuck.'

"_Stuck_?" Byakuya's voice was low, deadly, each word a promise of imminent oblivion. "What do you mean _stuck_?"

"I mean I can't get it back out," Renji said, worry replaced by impatience. "I can't even _move_ it…oh, no, wait, it moves."

"Ow! Dammit, Renji, that hurts! Stop pulling so hard!"

"Sorry…I guess I just put it in wrong…"

"How the hell did you manage that? I thought you said you've done this before!"

"I _have_, but not like this…"

"I should never have let you talk me into this…"

"Oh, you were just as curious as I was my first time. It's natural enough. Now stop wriggling around so much, or I'll never get it. I think if I move this way a little bit, it should…"

"You're pushing it in further!"

"No, I'm not. I can feel it starting to give…just hold on…"

"I heard something tear! Abarai, if you made me bleed…" Another distinct, deafening _crack _resonated in the air, and Byakuya practically howled. "_Ouch!_"

"Are you all right, Captain?" Renji said, genuinely concerned.

"Renji…" Byakuya's voice was muffled, but the menace in it was too clear to miss. "You have three seconds to get off before you learn a whole new meaning to 'a thousand ways to die.'"

"Uh…right…forgive me." The soft rustle of robes, a brief silence, and then Byakuya spoke again.

"You idiot, you broke it."

Ichigo felt weak. _He _broke _it_? He would have fled—would have, in fact, fled ten minutes ago—but his feet seemed attached to the ground and his ear to the door. The visions which flashed before him were nauseating, but he could not eradicate them.

"I did not," Renji protested. "Look, it's perfectly fine."

"Well, don't keep bending it! Don't even _touch_ it."

"OK, OK, I'm not touching it…"

"Put your hands anywhere near me again and I'll cut them off, do you understand?"

"Are you _always_ this pleasant afterwards?"

"Renji…"

"All right, all right! I promise my hands will stay as far away from your precious body as possible."

Byakuya grunted, but he was apparently satisfied. There was a dull _thud_, as if he had fallen onto the floor. "That…was exhausting."

"Tell me about it. I haven't been this tired since the last time we fought." His tone brightened. "We should do this every night."

"Maybe not until my wounds heal."

"Oh, you liked it, wounds or no wounds," Renji said, a devious smile in his voice. "You liked it a _lot_. I could tell."

Byakuya scoffed, but made no verbal response.

Renji plunged on. "We should invite Izuru and Shuhei to join us. They would love it."

"Hisagi Shuhei and Kira Izuru?" Byakuya asked, without much interest. "Are they the ones you did this with before?"

"Huh-uh. You should see them in action, Izuru in particular. He's an _expert_. He's _amazing_. He makes this look easy. Watching him, you'd think he's done it all his life! You would not _believe_ some of the things he can do. Shuhei isn't bad, although definitely not as good as Izuru. Me, either, if I do say so myself."

"Then he must really suck," Byakuya mumbled. If Renji heard the comment, he chose to ignore it.

"Oh! That gives me a great idea! We should have _Yoruichi_ join us!"

Yoruichi's impish, rather smug smirk faltered at last. She blinked, caught totally off guard.

Byakuya sounded as shocked as she looked. "_Catwoman_?"

"Yeah, Catwoman. I bet Kisuke's taught her a few tricks. She could probably teach _us_ a thing or two."

Kisuke's face turned bright crimson. Yoruichi's brow rose. They glanced at each other and quickly diverted their gazes. Ichigo stared up at the pair in frank astonishment. Toshiro fixed them with an oddly scrutinizing look, as though a suspicion he had carried for many years had been confirmed.

"Oh, you just want to see her all sweaty and covered in whipped cream."

"Don't you?"

A pause. "Didn't I tell you to shut up?"

Yoruichi's grin reappeared as suddenly as it had vanished. "How intriguing," she mused. Kisuke saw the glint in her eyes, and said a private prayer for the two younger Soul Reapers.

The silence which followed lasted longer this time. With each moment that passed, the tension built further and further until Ichigo felt he might explode with it. Finally, when he thought he could take no more, Renji's voice floated out to them again.

"So, Captain…ready for round two?"

A resigned sigh. "I suppose. But _I_ go first."

"Whatever you say, Captain Kuchiki. I live to please you."

Another thud made Ichigo, Kisuke, Yoruichi, and Toshiro whip around. Rukia had collapsed. Ichigo sympathized; he felt like he might faint himself. His once pure mind had been completely and irrevocably corrupted. He had known his innocence would be lost to the Soul Society and its residents, but he had presumed Urahara or Zaraki Kenpachi would be ultimately responsible, not Kuchiki Byakuya and Abarai Renji, and he could never have envisioned it like _this_.

Evidently, neither had Rukia.

Meanwhile, Ukitake had finally come to same conclusion as the others.

The white-haired man's transformation was instantaneous and utterly unexpected. His complexion went from a deathly pallor to alarming red to deep purple in a matter of seconds. His entire form trembled with rage; it actually seemed to radiate off him in corporeal waves of heat like the flames of Yamamoto's Zanpakutou. His companions shrank away from him, surprised and frightened.

"Captain—?" Toshiro began uncertainly. Ukitake shoved him aside with uncharacteristic brutality and threw open the doors so forcefully the wood splintered.

_"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU TWO THINK YOU ARE—"_

He stopped. His words reverberated off the walls like the echo of distant thunder. His jaw dropped. Infuriation was fast replaced by shock and incomprehension. Gradually, one by one, the others gathered behind him.

A sweet aroma permeated the atmosphere, but rather than the hot, heavy odor of torrid indiscretion, it was one they all knew: the alluring scent of fresh baking. Byakuya lay stretched out on the floor in the center of the room, his long ebony tresses a trifle moist and matted to his brow. A thin sheet of sweat gleamed on his skin in the dim evening light that filtered through the open door. He seemed to nurse his right hand, which was red and slightly swollen. His sleeve was ripped. Renji knelt across from him, the upper part of his robes cast off to expose his tattooed chest. His hair was down, and cascaded over his shoulders like subdued molten embers. He had what looked like a short, slim two-pronged metal stick in one hand and a platter in the other, laden with traces of whipped cream like cloud remnants. Scattered around them were tattered pieces of cloth, and two small gift-packages lay at their feet. Behind them was a large black box, from which the scent in the air appeared to originate.

The young Lieutenant blinked at the quintet crowded in the doorway, gaping in at them as if they could not fathom what their eyes perceived. "Er…hey, guys. Uh…is there something wrong?"

Yoruichi was the first to recollect herself. "Hello, Renji," she said pleasantly. "What the hell is going on here? And what is _that_?" She indicated the hulking thing the two sat beside.

"Oh, this?" Renji asked, and patted the object almost lovingly. It made a hollow banging noise as he did so. "Didn't Urahara ever show you one of these? _This_ is an oven." He spoke like one revealing a great treasure.

"A _what_?"

"An oven," Renji repeated patiently. "Yamada Hanaturou—you know, that hamster-y kid from Squad Four?—brought it from the Living World a while ago. Izuru, Shuhei and I have been trying it out, and we've gotten pretty good at it. I wanted to show it to Captain Kuchiki, so I took it here."

"What does it _do_?" Toshiro questioned, not without a hint of ambivalent curiosity.

"Bakes."

"_Bakes_?"

Renji nodded. "Yep. Cakes, cookies, all sorts of things. Izuru even made some muffins the other day. He seriously is amazing when it comes to cooking, those were the best muffins I ever had, and he didn't even know how to work this baby!"

"I know where he can stick his muffins," Byakuya muttered.

"Wait, wait," Yoruichi said slowly. "Hold on a minute. _What's_ going on here?"

Renji turned to Byakuya. The dark-eyed Captain uttered a soft exhalation and sat up, brushing the hair absently from his forehead. "My fool of a Lieutenant decided, because he is so generous and eager to share with me every aspect of his life, for apparently such things solidify 'friendships,' to lug this…_thing_ all the way from the Fourth Squad barracks to here. Although how he managed it we may never know—"

"My Bankai," Renji said cheerfully.

Byakuya stared at him a moment. "All right, via his _Bankai_. At any rate, he showed me how to operate this…so wondrous device, nearly setting my house on fire in the process—"

"But I _didn't_." He put great emphasis on the negative.

"Once it was established the thing could be used without placing my home and ourselves in mortal danger, he issued me a challenge. Of course, I had no desire to waste my time with such pointless contests—"

"Oh, you wanted to do it, be honest. I saw it in your eyes. They always give you away."

"—but I had little choice. He kept pestering me, so I conceded for the sake of my sanity."

"Do you always have to be so dramatic?"

"The object was to bake the best cookie."

"Or cake," Renji added. "It could have been a cake."

"You never said that."

"Yes, I did. I explicitly stated: 'We can make cookies, cakes or whatever else comes to mind.' You just didn't listen, I guess."

"I never listen to you, Renji."

"Don't I know it," Renji grumbled. He brooded a moment, and then brightened. "My cookie turned out a lot better than I thought. It was _gigantic. Colossal_. Ten inches in diameter, no lie. I've _never _seen one that big. Even the chocolate chips I loaded it with were massive, and as warm and gooey as you could want, you wouldn't believe it if you saw it!"

"Mine was bigger," Byakuya said.

"Only by, what, an inch or two?" Renji said dismissively. "You could hardly tell the difference." He paused, ostensibly unaware of the burning glare the other man was giving him. "Although I have to admit, yours was really good. Better than mine, I suppose…"

"Of course it was."

Renji rolled his eyes surreptitiously to the ceiling.

"They were both too big, however," Byakuya said. "I damn near asphyxiated myself on _his_." He jabbed an accusatory finger at his Lieutenant.

"It was your damn fault for trying to eat it all in one bite," Renji retorted. "I told you to take it slow, savor it, but once again you refused to listen. So don't blame _me_!"

"Look who's talking," Byakuya shot back. "You shoved the entire thing in your mouth and devoured it before I had a chance to blink!"

"Well, I clearly have more room to accommodate than you."

"We'll see how well you _accommodate_ a hundred million blades, you keep that attitude up," Byakuya snapped. Renji cast him a withering look.

Ukitake could have slapped himself. How could he have ever believed these two fools would so much as _contemplate_ sexual interaction? Granted, Renji would not be the first—male or female—to endeavor to coax Byakuya out of his robes and into the bedroom, and vice versa, but the day the rash and often irascible Abarai Renji succeeded to seduce the stoic and outwardly detached Kuchiki Byakuya was the day Ukitake dyed his hair pink and danced naked through the Seireitei with a group of yodeling Hollows.

Yoruichi shared his sentiments. She, too, looked somewhere between laughter and unbelief. Ichigo still seemed to struggle to grasp what was happening. Toshiro's color had not yet returned, but his shock had obviously worn off, and his expression was one of mild interest mingled with embarrassment. Kisuke was relieved, though he could not fully hide a touch of disappointment.

The oddity of the scene notwithstanding, it did explain the exchange pertaining to the comparison of respective sizes and Renji's invitation for Byakuya to 'have a little taste.' However, it still left many unanswered questions.

"What are those for?" Toshiro pointed to the gift-boxes.

"We wrapped them up to present them," Renji informed him.

"The cookies?"

Renji nodded. Toshiro raised an eyebrow, but decided it would be better not to ask.

"What happened to your hand?" Yoruichi questioned.

Byakuya glanced down. He pointed silently at Renji.

"Hey!" Renji exclaimed, indignant. "It wasn't _my_ fault!"

"Oh, no?" Byakuya said dryly. "So the door shut magically on its own, did it?"

"I made a mistake, that's all. I didn't do it on _purpose_."

"Uh…do what?" Toshiro's tone suggested he did not really wish to find out.

"Well," Renji said, his irate gaze locked on his Captain, "the cookies were beyond delectable. So I decided I would try to show Captain Kuchiki a trick to making them faster that Izuru taught to me, because he had some trouble and took a while to get his ready. Everything was going great—"

"Until this idiot shut the oven door on my fingers," Byakuya interjected coldly.

"It wasn't _intentional_! I tried to _help_ you!"

"And almost dismembered me in the process."

Renji sighed. He turned to the others and brandished the two-pronged rod. "The oven's a little…damaged. You can only open the door with this, but you have to insert it into the crack of the door the right way. I tried to pry it open for Captain Kuchiki, but I guess I did it wrong, so it didn't work at first. Then it got stuck." He blushed. "Took us forever to finally get it out."

"And you broke the oven," Byakuya said. He took the rod from Renji and tapped the top of the device. This time they all heard something rattle inside.

"It's not broken," Renji said irritably, and snatched the stick back. "It'll work fine." He carefully picked up the oven door by its edge, slightly warped and misshapen from the years of exposure to heat the metal had endured, and swung it up and down twice to prove his assertion.

"Keep doing that and it might snap right off."

"Paranoid," Renji mumbled. "Completely, hopelessly paranoid. How the hell did Hisana deal with being _married_ to you?" Then, his anger apparently dissolved, he grinned at the others. "So, would anyone like to try one? We can make some for you. I can whip up some dough in a second, and we have lots of cake mix, if you'd rather have that. Also, I have a bunch of stuff to put on them." He leaned over, reached around the oven, and heaved a large crate into view. It overflowed with an assortment of toppings: containers of cherries, tubes of chocolate icing, bags of sugar and various candies, vials of multicolored sprinkles, packages of peanuts and chocolate chips. "Everything a true lover of dessert could want," he proclaimed proudly.

"And a one-way ticket to the Land of Obesity," Byakuya added in undertone.

"Oh, give me a break, Captain. You're too scrawny, anyway."

"_Scrawny_?" With a lazy flick of his wrist, Byakuya pushed the sleeve of his robe down to reveal his muscled torso. "Who are you calling scrawny, tattoo boy?"

Renji glanced over his shoulder, appraised the older man ephemerally, and then shrugged and returned his attention to the carton of treats. "So, do you guys want one, or what? I'll have to run and get the cake mix and the eggs and butter and stuff, but—"

He was silenced abruptly by a series of thumps from the entryway. Faintly apprehensive, as uneasy thoughts of the hundred million minute petal-like blades his superior had threatened to unleash upon him earlier flashed through his mind, he lifted his head and averted his gaze. Byakuya looked around, his countenance totally neutral, almost torporific, like one unwillingly observing an event he finds dull and meaningless.

Ukitake, Toshiro, Ichigo, and Kisuke had all fainted. Or, more precisely, Ukitake and Ichigo, the limit of the amount of shock either could take achieved and bypassed one too many times in the last twenty minutes, had fainted and knocked out Toshiro and Kisuke as they tumbled backward into them.

"Uh…guys?" Renji called tentatively. "Are you all right?"

Yoruichi regarded her unconscious companions for a moment, and then she turned calmly to Renji and Byakuya. "So…Renji. How about you make me one of those cookies?"

Renji blinked at her. "Er…sure. No problem." He stood up and hurried out, giving the inert forms of the Soul Reapers a wide berth. Once he had gone, Yoruichi—none too gently—dragged Ukitake, Toshiro, Kisuke, and Ichigo onto the outside porch, laid them side by side, reentered the room and slid the doors shut. Byakuya watched without emotion. She pivoted to face him, and gradually, her sultry smile returned.

"Well, Kuchiki Byakuya," she purred. "Shall we try the sugar first, or the chocolate?"

At that instant, a door in the opposite wall cracked open and Ichimaru Gin poked his head in. "Did someone say chocolate?"


End file.
